


The Wolf-Girl Who Longed For The Sun

by goldandbeloved



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), game of thrones
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Biting, Blood Play, Bloodplay, Body Worship, Bondage, Caretaking, Chains, Chivalry, Comfort, Corporal Punishment, Cryptophasia, Cuddling & Snuggling, D/s, Dominance, DominantCersei, DominantJaime, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Fairy Tales, Female Dominance, Femme, Femme Domme, Femslash, Feral, Fetishism, Fingerfucking, Fingering, Fisting, Frottage, Genderplay, Healing Sex, Heavy BDSM, Het and Slash, House Lannister, Imprisonment, In Public, Knife Play, Knifeplay, Laughter During Sex, Leather, Lemon Cakes, Lesbian, Love, Male Dominance, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Mistress/slave, Multi, Naked Hugging, Needle play, OT3, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Other, Pack Dynamics, Penetration, Petplay, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-OT3, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Fantasy, Queer Het, Queer Themes, Rimming, Romance, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Snowballing, Spanking, Strap-on play, Submission, Tenderness, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Top Drop, Toys, True Love, Twincest, Whipping, bloodsport, body service, chivalric fetishism, erotic humiliation, incest (consensual), lannister fetish, lemon cakes are aftercare, lesbian bdsm, ménage à trois, permanent marking, pillow book, play piercing, predator/prey play, queer, role play, voyuerism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 71
Words: 119,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldandbeloved/pseuds/goldandbeloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a wolf-girl who traveled south-and the story of her beloved companions, strange adventures and opulent pleasures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Story Time (LadyxCub)

_Give me your skin_  
_as sheer as a cobweb,_  
_let me open it up_  
_and listen in and scoop out the dark._ Anne Sexton. "Rapunzel"

_I wasn’t blind at Winterfell. Even that coarse Northern dress could not hide your beauty, your aching to be touched, to be made precious. I would have killed all of them to bring you to me and my beloved. I dreamed of kissing you and I rubbed myself raw thinking of you. I wanted you at King’s Landing, wanted you to crawl like a penitent to kneel at my feet. I wanted you spread across my bed like the rarest pelt. I was patient because I wanted you that badly._ A caress. _Here you are, little dove_  
Cersei runs a finger under heavy gold chain around the alabaster neck. _Sansa_.

Sansa lifts her head for a kiss, melts into her Queen's arms.

***

Cersei tells her stories at night, while they drift to sleep-no one asks why Sansa is the favored bed-warmer, no one questions the hours that the Queen and the Kingslayer and the Northern doll spend together. At night she orbits the queen, like a pale moon pulled in to a hungry sun.

_Once upon a time_ , the Queen says, fingers gently untangling Sansa’s hair in the darkness, where everything is sweetness and quiet. (Cersei gives long tender kisses in the velvety dark, lets herself be stroked like a kitten, whispers to Sansa, _my rosebud, my sweet bite of cake, my little dove_ then covers her with gentle kisses, covering the day's scratches, bruises, bite marks. The lioness purrs here and it is a secret that only two know.

The night is sweet, the air thick and tender, like drowning in honey. It is that darkness that Sansa learned to lick, the Queen’s hand pushing at her head,holding Sansa between her legs, compelling her to drink, like a kitten with a saucer of milk and Sansa drank deep, drunk on her Lady better than the sweetness of berries, the stickiness of cake. the richness of wine.

It is in the curtained dark of the royal bed that the Queen’s ministrations caused Sansa to cry out in a pleasure she never knew existed-the first time but not the last that she tasted herself on the Queen’s lips and fell asleep with her Lady’s sweetness on her own.

_There was a little wolf cub-but she was not content with snows and pines and ice. She looked at red berries glowing in the snow, the edge of gold at the silvered sun and dreamed of sunlight. So she wandered and wandered a long way, alone until she came to the shining shores._

The Queen nibbles at Sansa’s earlobe while wrapping herself around her, rubbing softly as Sansa rubs back.  
_And the little cub saw stags that would toss creatures to death between their horns, the crows in black gowns, in the deep the krakens who dragged down ships scattering gold and jewels to the bottom of the sea and all the other creatures of the moon and sun and deep waters. Then she saw them and it was like looking upon the golden eye of the sun._  
Cersei’s fingers tighten in Sansa’s hair and Sansa pulls back to prolong the hurt and slow flowering of pleasure within her, like red leaves unfolding bright and bloody.

_And the wolf-girl did not know what to do among the creatures of the sun and noonday heat. They regarded her with green eyes and she wanted to run but she could not._  
Cersei’s hand reaches down to cup Sansa’s breast flickering against her hardening pink nipple. _The wolf -girl adored their teeth and claws so like and so unlike her own and she was afraid she would be torn to pieces_

Sansa is panting low and softly right now, wrapped in her mistress’ arms. Tonight Cersei is kind, slipping a finger low to Sansa’s cunt finding her silky and wet. _Just a taste tonight_ Cersei whispers. Sansa squirms and clenches against her lover, panting. _The wolf girl knew what to do_ , Cersei whispers in her ear. _She lay down in front of the two leaders who shone like burnished gold, showing her belly, her soft grey pelt like a dove’s wing._

The Queen whispers into Sansa's ear. _The wolf-girl waited to see if she would live or die but then they lifted her up and took her with them. The wolf-girl knew inside her that she would never want to be free and so she lay down with the lions for every night forever and ever and ever._

Sansa clenches and sobs as Cersei’s clever fingers work at her and she comes in slow long rippling waves of pleasure, Cersei’s sweetness of lavender and honey and her own luscious scent surrounding her like a beautiful cloud. _Yes little dove_ , Cersei says, _yes_ , kisses her forehead and curls up against her to stay warm in the night with her lover guarding the door, knowing that he will be inside in the morning.  
***  
It is there that Sansa sighs, entanged in her Queen's hair, a bird in a nest of golden vines. She can sleep now, dozing and drowsy, falling asleep as Cersei whispers _Mine. Mine. Mine_


	2. The Gift of Idolatry (Cub, SerxLady)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa watches.

It is exquisite, watching them; sinuous movements of hands, golden hair flowing like sunlight in the dim room.  
It is done beautifully as if a performance but they are the ones who command. 

The Queen pinches Ser Jaime's nipples, nails digging in, hard.  
Ser Jaime roars as he pulls and he leans back, a circle of heat, pain and pleasure and a scuffle and bites, Ser Jaime biting at her throat and arms, falling to the ground in front of the fire, wrestling for control.  
This time Cersei lets him win, him hard white teeth on her neck, scruffing her as if she was a kitten, her relaxing into the floor, soft breasts and belly gleaming in the firelight, lifting her haunches, leaving herself wet and exposed for her lover. When, hee slides into her, her moans are guttural and bright, like the girl in the tale who spilled jewels when she spoke.  
Cersei’s growls as she is fucked are slick and bright ,rough cut rubies spilled out in blood.

Sansa watches dreamily, hands tied, feet tied on the settee, unable to touch or move or even squirm as she watches the Queen and the Kingslayer devour each other, golden demons fucking rough and brutal as predators, as beautiful as the gold chased curves of the lion rampant on Ser Jaime’s shield.  
The Queen and Ser Jaime roll in motion like red waves as they twist and turn and suddenly Cersei is on her back, gloriously, shamelessly nude as a harlot, her legs wrapped around her twin’s thrusting hips, her matching gold ankle bracelets shimmering through the heat. 

A slow slick dribble runs down Sansa’s thigh. She can never tire of watching this stunning blasphemy, this beautiful curse, this damned perfection of gold and emerald and teeth and claws. The Seven and the Godswoods have fallen from her mind replaced by her beautiful golden gods.  
Sansa wonders if the gods fuck the universe into being; a heresy is such a little thing, such a little thing right now. She lolls dreamily on the settee, nude herself skin roses and cream, reeling from the wine and brew that Cersei had her drink beforehand. They like her pliable; flexible and sweet and open for them,waiting. They know she likes to watch them because the shock is in the beauty of it; since she has seen it, she is theirs forever.

Ser Jaime wrapped her in white cloak so she doesn’t catch cold, bride and slave and servant is the Stark girl waiting in her bonds as Ser Jaime and Cersei cry out together, him collapsing on her breast, the sweat on his brow burnished and shining as Cersei squeezes him within one more time and then they lie together, gasping for air.

It will be her turn soon, Sansa thinks, her head sweetly addled, pink tongue gently licking at her lips. Soon. She is patient and can endure.


	3. Posting (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory, in the darkness.

_Put your pale arms around my neck._  
Let me hold your heart like a flower  
lest it bloom and collapse. - Anne Sexton "Rapunzel"

She lies, in quiet repose, hands tied, feet tied, eyes covered, wrapped in a blanket waiting for them to return; she has learned patience. In the silence, there is room for dreams, wishes, memories, things that flow through Sansa's mind without disturbing the calm at her core.

Sansa remembers little things, before things were as they are; Cersei never touching any of the other Starks but for Sansa; always managing to tuck in a stray strand of russet hair, a kiss on the forehead, a gentle brush along the cheekbone. Before the feast, Sansa had nervously presented her with a gift as was expected; delicate handkerchiefs she had embroidered in red and gold blossoms with an immaculate golden lion rampant on each. Sansa had worked till the candles burned down and her fingers were poked and sore from the delicate needlework.  
The Queen’s cool marble face blossomed for a moment as she smiled. _Perfect_. she said. _Perfect_ , brushing across Sansa’s brow with a delicate kiss, then embracing her, her cool hand resting at the small of Sansa’s back. Sansa felt something quivering, fluttering inside her as she breathed in the spice and lavender of the Queen’s scent, whispering _thank you your Grace, I am so happy you are pleased_

Cersei gently released her still stroking her arm, smiled as if just for the two of them then spoke _So sweet, so gentle, so tender-you are my little dove_. Cersei brushed another strand of hair from Sansa’s face. _Run along now. You will want to look lovely for tonight_. Then the Queen smiled. _Don’t I deserve a kiss_ ; as soft breath and a velvety whisper _my little dove_? Sansa’s heart pounded and her fingertips swollen from nights of sewing tingled as she softly brushed her lips across the Queen’s cheek and it was then that Cersei turned her head so that Sansa’s lips brushed hers, lingering for a moment. _Fly little one, fly_. That night Sansa had thought she would be looking elsewhere but at every spare second, she was looking at the crowned and glorious Queen-and the only time she smiled warmly was when looking at Sansa. The only time Cersei sustained that smile was when Sansa was brought to her, touching her hand, marking her as beautiful, worthy of royalty.

(Another pair of emerald eyes watched Cersei and Sansa; the Kingslayer enjoyed it, felt like he was tenderly brushing Sansa’s soft skin, warming her as if he and Cersei were one heart, one body, one pair of hands. He refilled his wine, watching, enjoying the girl’s flushed skin, her stammer-and he entertained the pleasurable thought of Sansa sticky-lipped with wine, fluttering in their arms like a trapped bird, kiss following kiss in quick succession then kisses and tiny bites and then... _Oh my sister, you do make life interesting for us._ ,he thought.  
Ser Jaime looked into his Cersei's eyes and drank deep of his wine briefly flashing her a lustful smile, then returning to lesser, gracious conversation.)

Then things were bad-Sansa barely remembered such a blur of crazed sadness, fear, packing everything of her life away in boxes and trunks, wide-eyed and frightened she spiraled through the days-but then the Queen would brush her hand, wipe away a tear or hold her close. _The Southron sun will do you good, little dove. This is too dark, too filled with sorrows for such a girl as you._  
On the last night, Sansa saw Cersei on the landing, ready to go up. Sansa had so much welling up to say, fury and pleasure and anger and so much but she saw the rise and fall of the Queen's breast and her golden glow from the candle, so lovely. Sansa felt had felt her chest crack open, something crumble-and ran to her, offering up a kiss heart beating in her throat because now it was done and could not be undone. Cersei held her gently, returning her chaste kiss. _Goodnight, my little dove. Sweet dreams._ And sweet they were-like all the pain and loss were slipping forth from her body, being replaced by something stranger, something richer and sweeter.

On the way to King’s Landing, the Queen spread a place beside her in the wheelhouse-Sansa had waited a few minutes before realizing it was for her. Sansa had whispered _thank you Your Grace_ as Cersei smiled her full, white teethed smile and despite everything Sansa couldn’t help but move closer. Cersei wrapped her in half of her fur cape murmuring about keeping her warm, _this Northern weather would chill you to the bones.We can't have that._  
Sansa shivered but oh, the Queen’s face was ivory and emerald and lips stained like rich wine and Sansa couldn’t stop moving to her, closer.

Despite her anxiety, Sansa breathed in the scent of rich herbs, soft fur, lavender oil and the spicy sweetness that seemed to come from Cersei herself. It was intoxicating, comforting. Sansa wanted to bury her face in the Queen’s shoulder and breathe it in and then she thought of kisses.Her heart beat faster and her face flushed as she regained her composure. The Queen seemed for a moment to have a wicked sparkle in her green eyes, her mouth crooked up in pleasure but she was still and calm again as gold and marble.

Sansa squirmed. _Poor dear_ said the queen. _Is the wheelhouse difficult for you?_ Sansa nodded.

_Move with it_ Cersei said gently holding her hand for a moment, _like you are posting to the trot when you ride. Much more comfortable_.Sansa bounced slightly with each jostle and began to feel better with warm flutters of relaxation and sweetness inside, sending flushes up her cheeks. It is then, as the other ladies in waiting drowsed and slept that Cersei began to stroke Sansa with her fingertips, gently over the breastbone, the neck and then with pleasure rubbing softly at the tender spot at the back of Sansa’s neck caressing and caressing the sensitive skin breathing in unison with the girl as she rocked with each bump in the road, Sansa was breathing heavier, her tongue dry, the only focus this sudden warm increasing heat between her thighs, her nipples suddenly hard despite the warmth, trying so very hard to keep a sweet, gentle face. The Queen’s fingertips burned beautiful patterns on Sansa’s tender skin and Sansa wanted-wanted she didn’t know what but it was the rocking and the touch and Cersei’s scent all together and she didn’t know. _Clamp your legs together tightly_ , Cersei whispered in Sansa's ear. _Helps with any cramps or pain_. Sansa obeyed and suddenly shuddered deep inside, felt her smallclothes grow slick with wetness and oh so pleased. Cersei smiled and whispered _Well done my little dove_ and her praise was enough to make Sansa shiver inside all hot and sweet again and it was only Cersei who felt Sansa's soft body tremble as she smiled, whispering _good girl, good girl_

Cersei wrapped the cloak tighter as if to to bind Sansa close and kissed Sansa on the cheek with q quick flicker of tongue. _Poor dear_., she says softly, _all tired out_ and Sansa begins to drowse in the Queen’s arms. Before her eyes close, she feels the Queens body stiffen, shudder and then relax. Were she watching she would have seen that nothing broke Cersei’s flawless half-smile. as she curled her arm about Sansa like a favorite doll and a kiss on the forehead that lasts a few seconds longer than is usual then Sansa slept, dreaming of kisses as the wheelhouse rattled on into the night.

In the darkness, she still dreams of kisses,all patience and perfection. She will be patient, but hopes that her lions will come and feast soon.


	4. Forfeit (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of kisses.

Sansa becomes attuned to smell here; instead of cool air and pine, King’s Landing is a vast strange cloud of scents-rotting vegetables, waste, rich clouds of scent from perfumers, sizzling meats and the rivers and sea all so much to take in. Sansa is drunk on all these new things and it does make the Queen smile so; they sit in her chambers and embroider on frames made from shining wood inlaid with gold, drink small cups of honey wine and talk.  
The scent of the honey wine and lavender and the Queen's own sweetness makes her swoon.

 _Does life at court please you? Very much, your Grace._

Cersei smiles, knowing that Sansa is trying so hard not to babble with excitement. The girl takes to pleasure like a fish to water and Cersei has been so eager to see her splash and swim. She lays a hand on Sansa's.

 

_It is warm-shall we rest?_

Sansa’s heart pounds fast; the Queen has asked her to rest with her in the warm afternoons before so that they might be ready for the evening but Sansa must now lie very still, very quiet because there is something she wants to which she cannot put a name.  
There are no songs, there are no words for what she is feeling only the pulse inside when the Queen pulls her close for an embrace (and oh Sansa wishes there were more of these embraces, it has been weeks, feels like months but the Queen has affairs of state, and gentle ladies with pretty hair and perhaps a Northern girl might be-embarrassing. Sansa does not like to think about the lattter.)

 _I don’t think that we will need anything but smallclothes today, it’s so warm._

Sansa looks scandalized, blushing as Cersei lifts away her gown to reveal herself-cool skin, full, soft breasts, a chain of pure Lannister gold draped around her neck, golden hair rippling to her waist and the emerald eyes that seem to pierce Sansa to the core. There are songs about the beauty of one’s Lady and these are all the tunes and words that whirl through Sansa’s head as she gazes at the Queen while trying not to look, fumbling with the ties on her dress. Cersei watches her, deeply enjoying Sansa's bright blushes, her clumsy fingers working finally loosen the last tie until she looks up shyly. _See? Not so hard._.Cersei smiles and pulls back the thin sheet so they can rest. 

Sansa starts to relax, enjoying the company, the precious moments she has with her dear Queen and she wants to say her Lady, but doesn’t know why-then she feels her wrists grabbed behind her back. She catches the hard glint of the Queen's sparkling green eyes. _Sansa. Was it decorous of you to just jump in...as if you had a right to my bed, not a privilege?_  
Cersei’s face looks stern and will not let go despite Sansa’s test wriggle. Sansa drops her eyes _I am sorry your Grace, I am grateful for your consideration and honored by your invitation._ biting her lip so as to not have her voice shake. How could she have done such a thing?  
Cersei leans closer. _Prettily done, little dove-but you must pay a forefeit-whatever I ask_.  
Sansa looks worried as her Queen looks upon her, thinking. _Something from a song-I know how much you like those_. Cersei smiles brightly, _A kiss. Yes, a kiss_.  
_Of course if it pleases your Grace._ Sansa's voice trembles, Sansa leans forward. brushing her lips from cheek to cheek because it is appropriate. As ladies do.  
_Your debt is not paid, little one._  
Cersei smiles wickedly letting go of her wrists briefly then with a quick motion, lying beside her, pinning her down with a shapely leg, hands gripped firmly around Sansa's wrists. Sansa feels her eyes grow wide  
_I think a bit more like this is in order-it was a grave offense._  
It is then that Cersei kisses Sansa full on the lips a long tender kiss that leaves Sansa gasping; and then Sansa cannot help but kiss back as her mouth opens and the tip of her tongue reaches out to brush Cersei’s lips. Cersei pulls away looking stern. _Naughty. I don’t recall that being part of a kiss. What would your Septa say? Hasn’t she been teaching you to be a proper lady?_  
Sansa feels Cersei pressed against her leg, softly rubbing and she is so very confused, throbbing and embarrassed.  
_Do you have the right to touch a Queen?_ Sansa’s face fell, heartbroken at the thought of displeasing her Queen, afraid of exile from mornings and lessons and her face bright and golden as the sunrise.  
_No your Grace._ Sansa whispered softly, feeling her heart twist.  
Cersei looked very stern.  
_Well. Think as a Southron lady. Does a Queen touch someone as she likes?_

Sansa peeps up through her long lashes, nervously.  
_Yes, Your Grace._

 _I’m going to kiss you as I wish. Three times._  
Cersei smiles sharply, green eyes fierce. Then she kisses Sansa gently on the cheek, like a court lady.  
Sansa is puzzled, trying to guess what the Queen will want next. Looking up, things are very different.  
Cersei looks like a wild creature that has scented blood, her hands pinning Sansa’s hands to the silk sheets and oh, how Sansa shivers.  
_Turn over and be quick about it, girl._ Sansa’s face is pressed to the lavender scented pillow her back smooth and soft and her heart is pounding because she is afraid and the beautiful songs are mixed with beautiful teeth and the ache inside her and she wants to kiss Her Grace again and Cersei knows.

Sansa feels Cersei’s legs, strong from riding straddling her, pinning her, hands twined in her hair. The Queen pulls her hair hard as she has never done before, breathing heavier, hot on the back of Sansa's neck. Tears start to leak out the edges of Sansa’s eyes.  
Cersei pulls harder, leaning to taste one of the sparkling little tears. _Ahhh._ she says savoring it as if it were a fine drop of wine, better. _That’s a kiss._  
Then Cersei bites down on the back of Sansa’s neck as if she is a bad kitten, scruffing her, shaking gently between her teeth and then a sudden hard sharp bite on her soft shoulder.  
Sansa feels hotter within the fear, smells the lavender and spice scent of Cersei, and ar rich, dark sweet scent that is like nothing she has dreamed of and everything she has ever wanted made sudden and solid. Sansa starts to writhe her hips, lightly panting and Cersei growls low in her throat, snapping the back of Sansa’s neck in her teeth.  
_Bad little cub. I think you like it. Very bad little cub_  
Cersei is now the one rubbing against Sansa, enjoying the struggle beneath her, taking another hard bite, remarking her territory.

 _That’s another kiss._  
_Now_. Cersei grins wickedly. _Show me you’ll be good._ Both of them watch each other slowly and Cersei slides off, waiting for Sansa to choose what she will do.  
Sansa takes a deep breath and rolls over, opens her arms to show her breasts and belly, her rumpled smallclothes and lies very still.

 

 _Well done. Oh, very well done, little dove._  
Cersei begins to stroke Sansa’s face gently, nips at an earlobe, then with her emerald eyes open covers Sansa’s lips with hers kissing slowly and gently. Sansa feels like she is drowning, has never kissed someone with eyes open, never kissed anyone, never never like this and and Cersei’s tongue slowly slips inside and Sansa moans lowly in her throat at the pleasure. Her Lady’s teeth start to nibble and bite at Sansa’s lips and she gasps, arching her back to reach up up..

 _That’s a third kiss._ Cersei is gently tracing Sansa’s breasts, breathing softly, smiling at her. Sansa arches her back again.  
_Do you want me to stop?_ Cersei’s fingernails pinch gently at the soft tender skin and Sansa shivers.  
_I will give you a gift if you ask me, because you please me and because I can. But._  
Cersei holds a finger over Sansa’s lips. _I decide_  
Sansa looks nervous, excited, afraid. _I know you like my gifts little dove._  
_I do your Grace_ Sansa whispers, unable to completely stop her hips from twitching, longing for more.  
_Yes, your Grace, yes please._

Cersei growls in pleasure.  
_As you wish, sweetling._  
Cersei’s lips press down on Sansa’s biting and kissing as she holds her tightly, the Queen rubbing herself against the gasping girl.  
Sansa opens her lips to take Cersei’s tongue inside her relishing the taste of her Lady (because that’s what it is now) kissing back intent only on the taste and touch and silky skin of her Queen against her, inside her and she is so hot inside so blazing and sticky and nothing has ever felt like this. Cersei is nibbling at her neck, rubbing against her, sliding a graceful hand under her smallclothes. Sansa’s eyes widen but she cannot stop kissing and touching and she is so slick, she is embarrassed, but she wants

The Queen is kissing her gently, stroking her quim, gently opening her. Sansa gasps as the tip of Cersei’s finger slides in. _Only this_ Cersei whispers in her ear. _For now._  
_Clench your legs._

Sansa does so as Cersei grinds against her, screaming against the Queen’s mouth shuddering falling inside then a few tiny strokes and now weeping in pleasure. Cersei pauses and licks more teardrops from Sansa’s reddened face _Keep silent or I will stop_ , Cersei whispers, moving her hand back to sink her nails into Sansa’s breast.  
_Clench your legs tight again, little dove_ Cersei whispers, _for me_ and Sansa holds tight, explodes on the inside quivering and wet with pleasure as Cersei covers her lips with another kiss.

 

Sansa can barely move only tears and smiles and whispering _Thank you Your Grace thank you thank you_ as the Queen takes a basin of rosewater and a silk towel, gently wiping Sansa’s face and body, lingering just a moment between her pale thighs before taking another and wiping the sweat from her brow.

 _Very good, very good._ Cersei smiles softly.  
_You have made me very happy today little dove and you will be a perfect little lady indeed._  
Sansa whispers _Thank you your Grace_ again like a prayer as she rubs her cheek against the Queen’s cool hand.  
Cersei’s hand catches on a chain around Sansa’s neck, looks at it briefly while raising an eyebrow-a lion,of course She snaps the thin chain and tosses it to the corner. _I think this will suit you better. Lift your hair, sweetling,_  
The Lioness Queen removes the heavy gold chain warm from her own breast to rest around Sansa’s. Sansa gasps in joy and thanks, tries to cover Cersei’s lips with eager kisses. Cersei takes one then puts a finger to Sansa's pink lips. _In time, in time. Now we need our rest._

The last Sansa thinks of before she sleeps is the unimagined sweetness of falling asleep in her Lady’s arms under a silk sheet with a cool breeze from the golden afternoon, the Queen stroking her hair and kissing her brow, curling around her tightly for a moment then releasing a sweet sigh, relaxing as they both fall asleep.

Sansa is too busy dreaming to know it, but she will not sleep in her bed at the Red Keep again. The Queen needs a bedwarmer and her little dove needs a nest. Sansa smiles in her sleep, Cersei’s arms tight around her, keeping her treasure safe.

****  
In the garden, Ser Jaime Lannister is watching the sun set as a raven swoops to him. He reads.  
_The little bird sings sweetly; she has a music mistress, but we both need a dancing master._  
Ser Jaime stretches catlike, in pleasure and anticipation and walks back toward the keep, where candles for the feast are being lit, like fireflies in the gathering dusk.


	5. The Morning Dove (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wakes sweetly and is set to a task.

Sansa wakes from a sweet dream to find her bedmate missing; she scans the room quickly and sees Cersei doing up her dress, no help from any servant today, just the golden Queen and her mirror and a soft oil lamp. The Lioness Queen looks perfect in the half light; luminous, regal, _this is the kind of woman_ Sansa thinks _that men will die for_ and her body tingles at the thought.

It is then that Cersei comes to the bed, where Queen wraps Sansa’s hair around her hand, pulling her close for a kiss.  
Sansa has been an ardent student in the ways of pleasing her Lady, when to nibble, when to lick, when to stroke her hair and neck when to relax, be pliable, let the Queen bite where she wants to, flick away a bit of blood with her cat’s tongue _to add savor to the sweet_ Cersei says.

Sansa loves it when Cersei holds her head still, sliding her tongue deep into Sansa’s mouth, seeking, exploring ,tasting her secret geographies of pleasure and trembling that now are the Queen's always.

 _Hungry already, little dove?_ Cersei smiles and breaks the kiss, putting a finger to Sansa’a lips.  
Cersei puts out a fingertip. Sansa gently licks, dares to take it softly into her mouth, feeling a shiver rock the Queen’s body. _Whatever shall I do with you?_ the Queen murmurs, her face smooth as ivory.

Cersei smooths Sansa’s hair, rumpled from sleep. _I must be out for much of today-terribly dull councils, boring questions. Duties, though I’d much rather be teaching my little dove to sing._  
Cersei brushes a fingertip between Sansa’s legs and Sansa opens softly to her Lady. Cersei leans down on the bed, golden hair brushing Sansa's skin, soft cloud of lavender and spices and her skin's own sweetness, gently tracing her between the legs, over her smallclothes, circling a fingertip over the center of that sweetness, the pearl that Sansa knows is there and is suddenly so aware of, feeling her thighs slick again, gasping, arching her back and it is then that the Queen puts a finger to Sansa’s lips again.  
_Lick._ she says and Sansa tastes her own richness and saltiness on the tip of her finger, sucking greedily. There is a tiny soft slap on her face. 

_Now, now. Naughty._ Cersei says, getting up and smoothing her gown.  
_You have duties as well. Ser Jaime will be calling for you in the garden today and I expect you to be a model little lady._  
The Queen whispers _You are sweet to me; you are to be sweet to him, as lovely as I know you can be. He is my brother-and I would hate for there to be any sadness between us. We are family, sweetling._ Cersei kisses her on the brow. _Besides, I know he is quite a charming companion-and I know how you love charming things. He is almost as pretty as I._  
Cersei laughs softly in her throat, biting Sansa's lower lip as Sansa blushes deeply.  
Sansa squirms, pulls against her sharp teeth and looks up wide eyed.

The Queen regards her with a wicked grin, gently tosses her a hard,silk pillow.  
_Oh, little dove. I am not cruel enough to leave you on the boil. Not yet._ Cersei smiles sharply.  
_Go on, now._ Sansa closes her eyes, humiliated.  
_Open for me,lovely girl. You know what to do._  
Sansa lays the pillow on the bed , clasps it between her thighs and begins to rub harder and harder, panting, looking up at the Queen and with her Lady’s smile and nod, feels her whole body shiver and shake, abandoning herself to the pleasure and shame of her Queen watching her rub and _oh_. Sansa’s smallclothes flood with wetness as she trembles, breathing ragged, blushing hot and looking up to see her Lady smile.

_Well done._ Cersei smiles and brushes away an errant red curl. _Perhaps when I come back, I’ll have to see how my little wolf cub would rub herself against my leg. I think she would like that. I would-and that's what matters._ Sansa blushes to the roots of her hair, suddenly slick again. 

__Patience.__ The Queen kisses Sansa on the brow and goes to the door.  
_Get ready, little dove-Ser Jaime will be in the garden soon. Do not keep him waiting._  
With a breath of lavender and spice on the air, the Queen walks past her guards and down the hall.  
Sansa’s longing eyes following till she is gone. There is a flutter in her heart and a curiosity and she sends a brief prayer to the Seven that Ser Jaime will find her pleasing. There is nothing Sansa likes better than making the Queen happy-and if Ser Jaime is happy too, how perfect. Secretly she wonders if he will smell of spices and if the handsome brother shines bright like her Lady, whom Sansa wants so much to please. She hopes it will be a lovely day. 


	6. Indiscrete (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A picnic and a game of courtly pleasures.

Sansa’s mind is reeling by the time the afternoon has rolled the sun into the sky.  
Ser Jaime’s eyes are the emerald twin to Cersei’s and his voice is sweet-a growl softened with honey and gentle hands (Sansa had leaned into catch his scent as he offered his arm in the garden and oh yes, spices and honey with a sharp tang of metal and a warm dark musk. His lips grazed her hand with a soft flicker of tongue and Sansa quivered for it was like her Lady’s in this new unfamiliar form and oh by the Seven he is her Lady's mirror and she is his...) 

He has made her laugh, talking about how he learned to ride, asking about her days at Winterfell and she finds herself telling him stories, wanting for him to smile.

 _Ah,_ he says, _not quite the horsewoman they had hoped for?_  
Sansa drew herself upright, _Ser, I am still learning._ He laughed, a warm roar of a laugh that made her toes curl in her bright new slippers. _And a fine one you will be_ , Ser Jaime said, brushing his hand against her red hair, sliding softly to her cheek.  
She shivers with delight (for a moment she fancies that they are both touching her, that the Queen can sense her pleasure in the bright air, the sunlight, Ser Jaime’s gentle touch.)

 _And you blackened your eyes with soot to look like a lady-at five?_ Ser Jaime smiles. Sansa blushed.  
_Well, she was with one of our men so I assumed she was...a princess, his Lady. I ...thought he’d be reading her poetry. Septa made me scrub it off, but then I heard her and Mother laughing so hard, Mother almost cried_  
Sansa blushes bright, not sure why she told him such a silly thing.

She can tell Ser Jaime is trying hard not to laugh.  
Instead he takes her hand, strokes the back gently. _It’s no bad wish_ he said, _to wish to be a lady, to be beautiful. I am sure you were a lovely bird even then._  
Ser Jaime raises her hand to his lips, leaving a soft kiss between each knuckle with yes, soft tongue like her Lady’s, and she is confused, her heart does not feel torn in half, feels like they each are leaving kiss after kiss in succession.

They are lounging in the grass at the edge of the garden with and he has brought her pigeon and sweet wine. _Sip gently, little one_ he says. _It’s strong._  
His eyes gleam and his hair shines spun gold like his sister's. Sansa has never dreamed of such beauty all around her.

She wants to bury her face in his hair to see if it smells as lovely as her Queen’s but already knows it does.

 _You look so curious._  
Ser Jaime smiles at her, white teeth gleaming in the sun. _What are you thinking of?_ Sansa blushes.  
_Your hair._ she says. The back. It is shorn lightly for his helmet and she wants to touch it, feel the roughness under her fingers. _Yes,_ he says. _It’s different here_ , leaning over her, mesmerizing her with his emerald eyes. _It’s too hot under our helmets otherwise._ He shifts, and suddenly is over her, one hand over either of her shoulders. 

_Does my most curious lady wish to touch it?_  
He smiles and he is hot and fanged like the Southron sun. Sansa sighs deeply, suddenly aware of how close his body is to hers. _Yes_. she whispered. _yes._

_Then do._

Sansa lifts her hand to caress the back of Ser Jaime’s neck. It is rough and soft at the same time, delicious under her fingertips, so different. Her heart is racing, as if she is stroking a dangerous beast, but one who is so pleasing that her fingers cannot resist. Ser Jaime’s eyes are closed and he makes soft rumbling noises of pleasure, then he leans closer.

_Forfeit, little one. I think you already know._

Sansa’s lips are already parted when his lips reach hers, his insistent lips soft and heavy upon her mouth, his teeth already nipping at her tongue.  
_Open_ he whispers firmly, demanding obedience (just as her Lady..).He pushes his tongue into her soft and willing mouth.  
She nibbles at his lips just as her Lady likes and he growls sweetly rolling over and pulling her on top of him. 

_She was right. You are sweet. I can see why you make her so happy._  
Ser Jaime looks back at her. _You’ll make me happy too._ Then he is kissing her passionately, tugging at her hair, growling, looking at her with his green eyes, his golden hair like a halo. Before Sansa can catch her breath, he is delicately unknotting the cord at the front of her dress and Sansa knows she does not want to stop him but is suddenly concerned at what he may see.

 _Hmmm._ he smiles, tracing his fingers along the half moons of fingernails and teeth above her breasts, stroking under her heavy golden chain. _Pretty._

He grins lustfully, then pushes his head to her chest, biting at the soft tender flesh. Sansa moans softly, writing under him and like his sister he touches a finger to her lips.  
_If my sweet sister can’t resist, neither can I. Breathe in, little dove._ he whispers. His teeth send pulses of fire through Sansa’s skin and she can scent the coppery hint of blood in the air. Ser Jaime kisses the tiny wound, lacing her gown back up deftly, wraps her in his arms and kisses her again. Sansa’s tongue tangles with his, tasting her own blood, his warm sweat, inhaling his perfume so much like her Lady’s but strong in a different way, so strong and for a moment she wishes her Lady could taste this loveliness too. 

There is a swallow of sweet wine like fire and Sansa and Ser Jaime kiss, his hands running down her back, pausing a moment to cup her rear, caress and then move back up to run through her hair. Sansa can barely think, her breath coming harder and faster, panting as he presses against her, gently aware of his hardness. She sighs sweetly, starting to clench her thighs.  
_No._  
Sansa stops, startled as if it were her Lady’s voice.

Ser Jaime gives her a kiss on the lips, rises up and slowly packs away their things. He puts them down again, to take her in his arms and kiss, thrusting harder into her mouth, biting at her lips the way her Lady does but also his, firm, almost tearing, gnawing at her. Sansa feels like she is melting, feels herself soften already feels the dampness along her thighs.

Ser Jaime offers his arm and she takes it, trying to stop her speeding heartbeat, slow her breath as they slowly walk back to the keep. It is there that he thanks her for the pleasure of her company, says that he will see her soon.

 _Wait,_ she says as he turns to go. _What am I to name you?_  
He smiles broadly. _Jaime._ he says, leaning to embrace her, whispering into her ear. _But I am most fond of Ser when it comes from your lips_. Sansa’s heart starts to beat again as she tries to fling her arms around him.  
_Shhh,_ he says, taking her hand.

 _For now,_ his predatory bright eyes looking into hers, _for now, my dear sister may not be cruel enough to leave you on the boil._  
He kisses her hand with the deliciously familiar touches of tongue and Sansa feels slick again, so soft and open.

_I am._

Sansa’s eyes grow wide. 

She hears a soft growling laugh float back on the breeze, the golden lion pacing the boundaries of his territory.

A soft sigh escapes her lips as she watches him go, which she hopes is masked by birdsong. She is glad there is a walk, for it will take time to cool down the flush of her cheeks, repace her breath become calm before she can return to the chamber.

And she hopes with a shiver, that her Lady is pleased.


	7. Flamma (LadyxCub)

_Veni, domicella,_  
cum gaudio,  
veni, veni, pulchra,  
iam pereo 

Come my Mistress  
with joy  
come, come my pretty  
I am dying!

Qntal-"Flamma" Ozymandias IV

The fire burns low as Cersei lounges, a glass of wine in her hand, Sansa’s delicate fingers combing tangles from her golden hair.  
The Queen is deeply pleased. It has been luscious to watch Sansa try to keep quiet as Cersei has busied her with tiny task after task-polishing jewels, reading to her, bathing her in milk and rosewater (how those pretty hands tremble when they come close to Cersei’s full breasts and the treasure between her legs), wrapping the Queen in her red and gold silk robe.

Sansa’s cheeks are pink, she is softly shifting back and forth while trying to not (Cersei notices), staring with hunger at her Queen. Cersei smiles again, turns to her rose-flushed girl and tugs gently on the heavy gold chain around her neck

_Wine,little dove?_

_Yes, please. Sansa whispers._

Cersei slides up takes a sip and taps at Sansa’s pretty mouth, taps at it with a finger. Sansa obediently opens her mouth as the Queen opens hers, pouring a mouthful of sweet red between her lips.  
_Don’t miss a drop._  
Cersei warns her. Sansa licks and kisses, drinking in the wine and the sweetness of her Lady, nipping at her fingers. 

Cersei taps her lips.  
_You are incorrigible today-perhaps you have had a bit too much fresh air.Naughty._ Sansa’s lashes flutter. _It seems you’ve made a friend. My dear brother would like to walk with you again._

Cersei kisses her twice in quick succession, tasting the slippery red wine and Sansa’s own tender sweetness. _You’re blushing._

 _Yes your Grace._ Sansa’s voice is barely above a whisper. 

_Hmm,_ , Cersei says, dipping a finger in the wine, brushing it tenderly around Sansa’s lips.  
_Open._ Sansa’s mouth opens gently. _Very good, little princess._ Cersei looks wickedly at Sansa then slides the finger in further. _Open further back, little dove. Breathe through your nose, my love, take it in. All the way.That’s it. Good girl._ Cersei's fingers slide a tiny bit deeper. _Good girl_  
Sansa’s tongue and warm slick mouth make Cersei breathe roughly, entranced by watching how eagerly the wolf-girl tongues her fingers.Cersei sighs in pleasure thinking of the sweet girl on her knees in front of her at last, soon, she hopes soon. Cersei smiles wider and pushes the tip of another finger into Sansa’s mouth. 

_Now tell me_ , Cersei says. _Ser Jaime says you pleased him greatly.Did he please you?_ Sansa moans softly and wriggles, nodding. _yes, yes_ Sansa’s lips softly clinging to her Queen’s fingers as they slide away.  
_Off with your smallclothes._ Cersei chuckles low in her throat. _No hiding. Stand._  
Sansa stands, lacing her fingers behind her head as the Queen has shown her, all of her loveliness on display, The Queen gazes at her soft breasts, rounded hips, sweet, swet face blushing bright, hair hanging in a scarlet veil.  
Cersei takes a finger and slides it into Sansa’s quim, hearing her gasp. _Why, you’re wet as rain. You must have had a lovely time._  
Cersei smiles sliding in another finger hard and fast. _Mmmm. I wonder how many fingers I could get inside you right now, little wolf-bitch?_  
Sansa gasps then sighs with bliss. Cersei laughs and twists her fingers, feeling Sansa clench and cry out sweetly. _Your Grace, your Grace_ like a soft prayer.  
_Well done, very well done._ Cersei grins, running her damp fingers along Sansa’s lips.

Sansa’s face is lust -bright but then falls, looking concerned. Cersei is silent, having a sip of wine, watching her.  
Finally Sansa murmurs. _I’m sorry._ _Sorry for what, little one?_ the Queen teases. _That I..I liked it. Ser Jaime touching me._

Cersei takes Sansa’s chin in her hands, looking into her eyes. _Listen well, little dove. You belong to me. You are mine. You always will be. I wanted you from the moment I saw you._

Sansa’s face grows bright again, pink and white blushes across her face, her eyes bright with joy. Cersei tugs on the heavy gold chain around Sansa’s neck. 

_You do as I command. Your body is mine. I allow you your pleasures. Cersei smiles. And I can take them away. I own you as if I had bought you in a slave-market far away._ Sansa’s heart beats faster. _Aren’t you a princess? And cared for? Did you not come to my family?_  
Cersei growls with pleasure as Sansa slowly drops to her knees. Cersei strokes her hair composed on the outside, all trembling heat on the inside. _Yes your Grace._ Sansa whispers.

 _It is lovely when you say that to me_. Cersei whispers into her ear. _And you are beautiful on your knees, little dove. _Cersei kisses her girl, their tongues entwining, fingers wrapped in each others’ hair. Cersei pulls away and bites at her upper arm, gnawing, knowing she is leaving heavy marks. _Mine_ Cersei softly tugs on Sansa’s hair.  
_I only let very special people near my little dove_. __

___Now tell me_. _ _

__Sansa stammers, flushes, barely able to speak. Cersei smiles at the thought of her lover bringing such flame to Sansa’s face, loves the thought of her little dove in her brother’s claws, feels pleasure spread through her, growls low in her throat._ _

____Lie back, little dove. Spread__ Sansa flows softly on to the bed, open to her lover. Cersei flashes an evil grin, dragging her golden hair across Sansa’s body. _Let me see if I can make you talk. You will not move._  
Cersei licks her ivory teeth and bites into Sansa’s thigh, leaving a beautiful half moon on one side, clenching, pulling at the flesh while Sansa gasps out _He kissed me-used his tongue. Touched me I...wanted you to be kissing me too, both of you._  
Sansa closes her eyes, maddened with pleasure and with shame. _How sweet you are-always thinking of me._ Cersei murmurs, emerald eyes flashing with delight.  
_So you liked his kisses. Did they make you wet too little dove?_ Sansa blushes hot and red.  
Cersei kisses Sansa gently on the forehead. _No secrets between us, little dove_ Sansa cries out in a note of such heartbreaking sweetness that Cersei shivers to her core. _Yes, yes they did._ She moans.  
Cersei smiles again. _Mmm. Next time perhaps you’ll be wet enough to take my hand afterwards._ Sansa squeals. _I was...I was... he wouldn’t let me._

___Cersei chuckles. _Clever, clever Jaime.__ she thinks, briefly anticipating pleasures to come, then turns back to Sansa.  
_I think you should go visit. Perhaps I think you need a few more roses in your cheeks._  
_Show me how much you want it, how much you want to please me._

___Sansa presses her Lady’s hand to her lips then begins to kiss the rounded curves of her belly. _Ah, my little love_ , the Queen whispers, _ah that’s right ___as Sansa starts kissing lower, kissing thigh gently and softly, using her nails like a kitten’s claws then licking her fingertips, circling her Lady’s quim, lingering on her soft pink pearl. _Please your Grace, may I kiss you?__  
_Not yet, my sweet girl. Not yet._ Cersei smiles at Sansa’s faint blush of disappointment, enjoying the tease.  
_Show me gratitude. Use those pretty fingers._  
The Queen gasps on the inside as Sansa tenderly slips a finger inside her, clumsily but sweetly working within. Cersei sighs sweetly at the tender touch, wants to push her darling’s face further down till she gasps for breath, but reminds herself to wait no matter how sweet that little pink tongue is. _Thank me again , my little dove._ Cersei’s body is ivory and gold in the candlelight twisting sinuously  
_Oh your Grace, so beautiful thank you._ Sansa murmurs then starts to use her fingers in and out, slowly tenderly. The Queen is not in a tender mood. 

______Harder, wolf-bitch. Harder..__ Cersei groans as Sansas fingers slide picking up speed,slamming inside her dripping with sweetness with each thrust.  
Cersei can take no more, pulls Sansa up by her hair, _On your back dove,-just as you should be. No, no you may not._  
_Lie still._  
It is then that the Lioness Queen bites against either side of Ser Jaime’s kiss of a wound, two half circles on Sansa’s pale breast and then grinds herself against her wolf-girl, gasping,rubbing, then tugging at Sansa’s hair until she screams out her pleasure into Sansa’s sweet mouth. The Queen smiles and strokes her girl’s hair as they lie together. _Well thanked my little dove_. Cersei kisses her on the forehead. _Next time it will not be so easy. However, I think I can spare you for the afternoon. Remember, my dove, anything is possible if you are a sweet girl. My sweetest girl_ Sansa whispers her love and snuggles next to her Lady.  
_And Sansa._ Sansa turns in the dark as Cersei smiles _tonight, you may not. Sweet dreams_ Sansa feels her body throb and her heart beat fast as she tries to sleep-and sleep she does, fingering the Lannister gold at her pale throat. As Cersei drifts to sleep her thoughts are delicious-Sansa in a web of gold, pressed tight and sweet between two beautiful beasts- their sustenance, their treasure, their girl. Idly she wonders how Jaime will enjoy Sansa the next day. The lioness falls asleep with her lover, a smile on her lips. Across the Keep, Ser Jaime Lannister keeps watch, gently fingering a parchment from a bright-eyed raven. _Her steps are improving-she has a fine dancing master. Perhaps something more advanced would befit her. Her singing only sweetens._

_Ser Jaime raises the note to his lips, inhaling the scent of lavender and spices, a warmly wicked smile across his face. Then he wraps his white cloak round him, waiting for the sky to lighten, for the day to come._


	8. Dulcis Amor (SerxCub, Lady, LadyxSerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's dancing master finds her skill improved.

_Si tenerem quam cupio,_  
in nemore sub folio,  
oscularer cum gaudio.  
Dulcis Amor. 

(If I could hold the girl I love  
In the forest under the leaves,  
I would kiss her with joy.  
Sweet love! )

"Dulcis Amor"-Qntal -Ozymandias IV

 

Sansa’s head is swirling again, her arms tight around Ser Jaime Lannister’s waist, her cheek resting against the worn leather of his coat. In the morning, he had come to her, bowed gracefully. He had kissed her hand, lingering on each knuckle then looked up at her with a wickedly sweet smile. 

_Would you ride with me a small way, my Lady_? Sansa had smiled with surprise and nodded yes.

He had lifted her easily onto the horse and off they went; there was not much talk, but since, Sansa has been aware of the motion, the feel of Ser Jaime’s strong back and muscles, the scent of leather and under that the smell of dark spice that belonged to him; sweet like her Lady’s but richer in a different way and stranger to Sansa. She could not get enough of it.

They have come to a small wooded place with clear sweet air, green trees, the sound of birds and water from far away. After he had lifted her down,they stood together silently Sansa’s breath fluttering in her chest as she gazed at him, his hair spun gold in the sunlight, his eyes green jewels (so lovely-Sansa is drunk on his beauty, on her Lady's), his chest rising and falling as he gazed at her-then cupping her face in his hand, kissing her sweetly yet firmly, his strong arms holding her tight, so tightly she could feel him breathing harder and faster as he broke the kiss, smiling at her. Sansa arched her face up, brushed her hand against his cheek, feeling a gentle roughness and with a light tremor kissing him back, playfully nipping at his tongue as he growled sweetly, then grinned at her.

 _Hmm. Has my lady little claws today? Must I be careful of my virtue?_ Ser Jaime twists Sansa’s hair around his hand, gently tugging watching her face flush pink at each tug. _No, Ser, no!_ Sansa laughed. Ser Jaime tugged harder at her hair, enough to give Sansa a slight crackle of pain and laughter turned to quiet as he felt her relax into it and she heard a slight growl in his throat as he spoke. She catches his soft scent of spices on the air.

_Perhaps you are the one who needs to take care today, since you say you have no claws, my lady._ His smile is a hungry one and Sansa feels a hotness and a sharpness in it that makes her tingle, already feeling the first bit of slickness between her thighs. Ser Jaime covers her mouth with a kiss and her breath comes sharper and faster until he breaks away. 

_You must be hungry, little one_

They eat together; there is honeyed chicken, wine, figs and dates soaked in brandy, Ser Jaime teases her, feeding her bites of meat and fruit from his fingers as she nibbles at his fingertips. _Little wolf,_ he admonishes a smiling Sansa, _is my sweet sister not feeding you properly?_ He pauses to smile at her, coming close enough that she can smell his sunwarmed body, sharp tang of metal, the spiciness and muskiness of his skin.

 _Wicked girl. Do you only come to see me for chicken and sweets?_ Sansa giggles, rushing forward to catch him in a tumbling embrace. _Oh no Ser! It pleases me so to see you._ Off guard, he tumbles with her atop him and Sansa realizes what she has done to a member of the Kingsguard, her beloved’s brother. Before she can think of looking foolish, she realizes that Ser Jaime has grabbed her hands and both of them are breathing ragged and fast.

 _Mmm. You are very naughty today, my lady-and perhaps overly familiar, don’t you think?_ He smiles sharply at her and she feels herself trapped like a small animal , her heart thrumming as he rolls over, pinning her underneath him. _I think paying a small price is in order. Don’t move._ Ser Jaime smiles sharp as fangs, then whispers. _or I’ll make you wish you hadn’t_. With a lightning fast move he has taken a strap from the saddlebag and is binding her hands above her. _Lie still_ he orders and Sansa obeys, feeling him run his hands over her body, down her arms to stroke her breasts, his clever fingers hardening her nipples as she shudders with pleasure, then feels him lower himself atop her, rubbing against her in long, slow strokes. Sansa gasps in pleasure as she feels him harden against her, feels herself melting softly inside. Ser Jaime starts to unlace the top of her dress, growling with pleasure, rumbling in his throat, slipping a finger under the neckline to slowly brush the bites and bruises which makes her tremble more. _He is a golden lion_ she thinks, then suddenly _I am prey._. His growls only makes her grow slicker as he rubs against her hard, breathing in the scent of her skin and hair.

(Ser Jaime catches the scent of lavender in the girl’s hair-Cersei’s scent, like her seal on a perfect gift and he smiles, white teeth gleaming. _Dear, dear sister._ He thinks of her teeth on Sansa’s flesh and purrs again- thinking of both of them clawing at her sweet soft body stiffens him-then he is even harder at the motion of the captive Sansa’s hips beneath him. What a gift indeed.)

Ser Jaime rolls to his side to admire his captive, her skirts rumpled and hitched up by her sudden capture. He cups her breasts, then leans forward for another kiss, his teeth biting harder at her tongue and lips, kissing down her neck, gnawing and sucking. hard, enough to leave a mark, Sansa groaning beneath him. He spoons behind her, holding her to him, feeling her squirm, unable to resist rubbing hard against her 

Sansa’s senses are overwhelmed at the closeness of Ser Jaime, the headiness of him like rich wine his firmness against her, the wetness that is slicking her thighs, his bites stinging her as she gasps in pleasure, greedy for him.

She turns her head to look into his eyes. _Perhaps some penitence is in order_ he growls at her, stroking her. _I can’t have you attacking members of the Kingsguard. It sets a terrible example._ He bites at her earlobe almost hard enough to draw blood. _I must keep order,little princess._

 _What..what do you desire, Ser?_ Sansa murmurs, her mouth suddenly dry, feeling him loose the strap and sit up.

_I think, my lady, that is for you to decide. Keep in mind, you have nearly perpetrated a public menace._

Ser Jaime sits up, smiling like a predator and slowly watches as Sansa crawls towards him, his mouth suddenly dry with excitement. Slowly, Sansa kisses him, caressing the back of his head still rough and soft, gently, than harder with her nails him growling deeper and hotter,her slowly realizing with excitement that she is feeling him hold back. Her lips caress the soft fabric of his shirt and she begins to lick and nibble at his nipples as he groans in pleasure. _Harder little dove, harder_ he snarls as Sansa’s lips and teeth work at him all sting and pleasure.

Then she pulls away and suddenly looks shy. Ser Jaime waits for what seems like an unending series of heartbeats.

 _Ser_ she whispers so softly he can barely hear it _shall I kneel for my penance_? Her heart is hammering so fast she can hear the blood singing in her ears.  
_If it please you, my lady._  
_Yes, Ser._  
_Then kneel_

Sansa kneels, setting her skirts out along the grass like a proper lady.  
Jaime rumbles in pleasure seeing her before him, bowing her head and stooping low, a perfect little lady, the sun glistening on her heavy chain, turning her hair to living flame. She lowers her head to kiss his boots, lips and tip of tongue brushing the leather.  
_Very good, very good, such a good, good girl._ Ser Jaime takes hold of her hair again, enjoying the loveliness of her subservience, the curve of her neck, how perfect her hair looks wrapped around his fist, so pleasing-then feels her lips moving up his leg to his thigh, nuzzling and rubbing softly _oh by the seven_ at his cock. He growls harder as she rubs, seeing dirt grind into her dress from the gentle motion of her knees, wanting so badly to bite at any morsel of tender flesh he can reach, hungry.  
Then she looks up, eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure.  
_Ser, may I kiss you?_  
_Yes, little dove. Yes._

He has to help her trembling fingers to loosen him.

Sansa looks on, slowly kisses the tip of his cock. Ser Jaime rumbles with pleasure in his chest, slowly taking a hold back of her hair and it is then that she opens her pretty lips and takes him within-there are a few slips and missteps but soon her mouth is around him. _oh yes, the best of girls_ he sighs as she slowly starts to use her lips and tongue, sucking as he holds her hair tighter, pulling at it just a little at a time,

It’s then that he realizes his loving sister has trained her dove well; she’s even breathing as Cersei does, taking him deep almost to her throat. _Oh my wicked love, you taught her finger by finger, didn’t you? So we could both have the pleasure of having her mouth around us, the wolf-girl on her knees..._ Ser Jaime stops thinking and it is only her tongue and lips and hands on him and him pulling at her gently, then harder.

Sansa revels in the sensation of having his cock in her mouth; how Ser Jaime feels hard and velvety yet not like anything she has felt before, warm and silky in her mouth and the pleasure of touching so tenderly with her tongue, still drunk on the scents that he and her Lady share, the spice that is still so different on either of them the softness of his hair on her lips, the delicate taste of salt inside her mouth, the soft skin holding his stones-she cannot help but murmur low in her throat with delight as he gently slides in and out of her mouth. Ser Jaime fucks harder now, more persistent; he thrusts, she parries and there are no more words for this pleasure.

There are strange thoughts she has but lets them come, his tongue and hers caressing between her Lady’s thighs until she cries out from pleasure, her Lady and she kissing over his cock...Sansa lets them drift by until there is nothing left but Ser Jaime inside her mouth and her own lips and tongue and fingers and his cock stiff and sweet inside her.

He is pulsing in her mouth harder and faster and she works her tongue harder to keep up, and then she hears him cry out wordlessly, triumphantly and all she can think to do is swallow quickly like she is licking wine from her Lady’s fingers. Ser Jaime’s fingers release their grip on her hair and he slides out of her mouth, tends to himself and strokes her as she rests her cheek on his knee. He trembles lightly then words rumble low in his throat.  
_Oh Sansa_ _Oh my lady, I may never have to punish you again_ He grins at her, green eyes twinkling. _Though I must say it would break my heart if you were too good-I’d lose you to the Septas and then where would we be?_ Sansa laughs and curls against his chest, feeling his heart beating strong. _I won’t let them have you-your Lady and I would be bereft_ and it’s then that he kisses her again, long and slow tasting himself on her sweet pink tongue. _Thank you_ Sansa murmurs to him snuggling closer. _It was my pleasure too, Ser._

(it is an exquisite pleasure when she says his title; he knows she does not lie, that it is an honor.)

Ser Jaime stands up, reaches for his coat and spreads it on the ground. 

He stands, near her looking down, running his fingers through her hair. _I have half a mind to send you back to your Lady_ Sansa’s eyes open wide. _But_. he says. _I believe that such a pretty penitent has earned a reward-and I will not be so cruel to deny you that twice._ Ser Jaime crouches to nip at her ear. _I will be cruel. Extremely cruel_ he growls. _But not today._ , then whispers _even though I have heard you have such pretty tears_ with a sharper bite to her ear, so sharp she cries out. He laughs. 

_Lie back, girl._ Sansa lowers herself onto his coat. Ser Jaime taps her between the knees and they drop open, softly as he rolls up her skirt _My_ he murmurs. _you must have been in terrible agony_ and tears away her now wet smallclothes, tossing them far away. _You can explain that, I know you’re a clever girl._ Ser Jaime grins, starting to stroke her quim tenderly, slipping the tip of a finger inside. Sansa sighs. Ser Jaime kisses her fiercely, thrusting his tongue into her willing mouth, kissing down to her hips and thighs. _Hm. _he looks at her._ _

_I see one has marks and the other one is plain. How sad. I certainly can’t return you without being sure you’re decorated properly._ Without warning, Ser Jaime sinks his teeth into her empty thigh, worrying it between his teeth, hearing Sansa’s sharp, sweet cries of pain,feeling her grow wetter, growling hard against her with a furious hunger, then pulling back to admire. Ser Jaime looks again. _Needs something else. You must hold perfectly still or I’ll stop and send you back just as you are._ With a wicked grin he unsheaths a small knife from his boot. _Breathe in and then out, pretty girl_ he grins. Sansa cries out at the scratching, trying not to arch her back. _Not done yet_ Ser Jaime growls, pinning her leg to the ground. _Remember, sent back. As. You. Are._

Sansa is still while the scratches are done, blood pumping in her veins hot and sweet. Ser Jaime admires his handiwork; in the center of the half-moons of his teeth, S. J. L. Sansa is smiling, swimming in waves of sensation. _Ah, that made you smile too, didn’t it?_ Ser Jaime growls in her ear. _Make sure your Lady sees-I do aim to make ladies smile_ He laughs and puts the blade away. Ser Jaime pours a bit of clear liquor on a clean cloth, wiping his design while Sansa yelps. _Right as rain._ he says. Ser Jaime then lays a soft, tender kiss to Sansa’s quim as she opens her legs wider. He moves his lips and tongue, taking his time to taste, her, licking softly at her outer lips, then gently sucking and licking at her petals.

Sansa sighs at the sweetness of it, how good his lips feel, the coolness of the air on her exposed thighs, the sweet sting of Ser Jaime’s ministrations and the shivers starting to rock her body. She hums low in her throat and whispers _Oh, Ser_ soon lost to gasping and sighs as he traces her pearl with his tongue, slipping a finger in and out of her as he does. Sansa is soon lost on waves of sheer pleasure, heat circling though her body, firing along her quim and her pearl, feels herself growing softer and slicker by the moment , then oh his tongue sliding in and out of her-When Ser Jaime nibbles in a circle around her pearl she cries out from short sharp bursts of pleasure, quick, quick laughing and sighing with bliss. Ser Jaime slides up beside, her licking his lips, still stroking at her quim as he talks.  
_That rose they’re always talking about in those songs you like?_

Sansa nods, panting from the way his fingertips roll over her mound, press over her pearl, how with a sharper press she sighs in bliss, feels the fire building again.  
_This is it._  
Ser Jaime slides back , moves a finger just a short way and sucks gently on her pearl, Sansa cries out, moving herself against his face, feeling his now rough cheeks scratch against her thighs and that’s more and then two fingers sliding in like she’s oiled and then a flutter of teeth and sucking and _ohh_

Sansa finally screams, bucking her hips, howling out in pleasure, not caring if the world hears her or not. Her shaking legs fall open and suddenly Ser Jaime is there, holding her, kissing her deep and sweetly tasting her on his lips.

_Wonderful, little dove. Wonderful. I am very pleased_ He pauses.  
_I do hope you are too._ Ser Jaime’s emerald eyes draw her in and Sansa smiles again, snuggling against his shirt breathing into the scent of one of her dear lions, that sunwarmed spice and sweat with the leather of Ser Jaime’s coat and she shudders again, clenching and clenching twice over again, crying out. Sansa nestles back against his chest half-asleep. _I’ll consider that yes_ Ser Jaime murmurs, kissing her on her forehead as her Lady does.  
The ride back is sweetly silent as Sansa dozes, this time in the front, held in safe by Ser Jamie’s arms. Jaime smiles proudly briefly looking down at her, thinking _Next time, Lady Sansa, we bring you a horse. Or better yet, find a soft bed._ He smiles, then feels a flicker of intense pleasure at the thought of his lovers sharing a bed with him. Ser Jaime also thinks of Sansa and her Lady slicking their tongues along his cock,trading kisses with licks _but then, that’s because I’m not dead._ he reminds himself as they turn closer to the Keep.

Ser Jaime gallantly walks her to the door of the Queen’s chambers. _There you are wolf-girl. Home safe. I’ll see you again soon._

The Queen is there to catch Sansa-and it’s her turn to undress her (raising a perfectly arched brow at her little dove having no smallclothes) then to gently lower her into a perfumed bath where Sansa lolls and stretches out, revealing her creamy thighs. Sansa is sleepy as Cersei hurries out but swears she hears pillow muffled noises in the other room before Cersei returns, combing her hair. _Well, Ser Jaime has kept you out late. I’ll have to punish you for that tomorrow._ the Queen whispers in Sansa’s ear, tucking her in bed and curling up beside her. _Keeping my bedwarmer away like that..hmph._ _I missed you my Lady_ Sansa drowsily whispers. Cersei smiles her own sharp smile. _You must show me everything you learned tomorrow._ Then the Queen hisses _Twice._ , touching the note under her pillow before she sleeps curled up with her loyal wolf-girl.

_You are fortunate to have such a devoted dancer; she has already been working on mastering advanced forms which I am sure will please you. I suggest intensive study in dance and song-she may be ready for more complex forms soon. Such skill can only bring you pleasure_  
n his room Ser Jaime Lannister lies in bed thinking again of the wild girl curled into his chest all the way back and oh, his clever sister... _Seven Hells. Seven beautiful Hells, my love._ He smiles, fingertips touching the small piece of parchment held close to his chest.

_The dancing master must ensure she does not neglect her singing lessons-though additional instruction in each can only further her progress. Between her song and dance, she can only be bent and formed into the loveliest of creatures and capable of multiple harmonies. That being said, her footwork is nothing short of beautiful._

Sansa sleeps and dreams of lions, eyes bright as rubies, curled close in the desert night.


	9. Querit Amor Devia (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa, on a wild path.

_Amor tenet omnia,_

_Mutat cordis intima,_

_Querit Amor deviat_

Love possesses all things, 

Transforms the intimacy of heart

Searches for wild paths. Qntal-"Amor Volat" 

Sansa’s faced is flushed, her hair damp with sweat as for a moment, she lies on the soft red rug in the Queen’s quarters, heart beating with excitement, tongue dry. 

_Are you thirsty, wolf-girl?_ Cersei smiles, idly sipping from a goblet of Arbor red, dipping her fingers into the ruby liquid. Sansa sighs, panting, prettily extending her tongue. _Hmm._

Cersei licks her fingers dry. _I don’t think you’ve convinced me that you should have wine yet._ The Queen takes a small brass bowl from the table and sets it by Sansa’s head. _You may have water. Drink it up_

Sansa starts to reach over for the bowl, but Cersei is too quick for her, poking her with a slipper clad-dainty foot. _No hands for you right now. Drink_ Sansa looks up as Cersei smiles wickedly. _Your sweet eyes will not sway me now_ she says, but strokes Sansa’s cheek and whispers _although they are lovely_ _Drink up. As I told you._ Sansa trembles. 

_Hands and knees.Only._ Cersei smiles as she watches Sansa struggle with obedience, thirst and deep embarrassment, watching her bite at her lip and flush beet red. _Oh, this is hard for you. I suppose a certain creature is not thirsty after all_ The Queen makes a motion to lift the bowl, then slowly, Sansa rises onto her hands and knees and sips at the water using her lips and tongue, thirsty, drinking. _Keep drinking till it’s gone._ Obediently Sansa drinks and drinks till the last drop is gone. She looks up at Cersei, eyes wide and quivering. Cersei gently presses her head to her lap. _Well done. Very good girl_ Sansa rests still letting the Queen stroke her the tangles out of her red hair, lifting it out of the twists of the heavy chain of Lannister gold around her pretty neck, then gently moves to scratch behind her ears. _Good girl, sweet girl_ Sansa turns her head to touch the tip of her tongue to Cersei’s fingers and Cersei lets her.

Cersei takes a long slow slip of wine, letting it warm and relax her while she looks upon her girl, long red hair tumbling around her face, clad in only a thin silk chemise, the chain like forged sunlight upon her chest. The afternoon sun shines through the thin silk letting the Queen see every curve of her lover’s body, breasts, hips, long coltish legs. Cersei is not one to offer many thanks but at this moment she is exceedingly grateful to have such a girl at her feet. _You’re going to tell me the pleasure you felt with Ser Jaime. I’ve been so curious as to what you have been feeling today._

Sansa’s eyes open wide and she sighs. _Oh._ The Queen smiles a sharp, piercing smile. _My dear brother kept you out too late for my liking. So you_ she puts a fingertip to Sansa’s lips _can’t speak until after sunset-I did tell you you would be punished for his indiscretion. Yet you are still going to tell me how you felt._ Cersei strokes her lap, moving the red and gold silk of her robe to the side, pulling a small ottoman to the other side of her legs. The Queen snaps her fingers. _Over._ Sansa drapes herself across Cersei’s lap, kneeling on a pillow and resting on the ottoman till she is raised perfectly for whatever the Queen considers next. Sansa trembles as she feels gentle swats on the inside of her thighs. _Spread_ Cersei leans over and whispers _little wolf-bitch_ Sansa’s breath is ragged and as she opens her legs, Cersei can see the wetness already moistening her girl’s cunt and she smiles.  
_My little love. Were you ridden hard and put away wet?_ Sansa shakes her head no, her breasts moving with each motion, causing the Queen sudden distraction-the girl has not been bitten or pinched there enough recently and a ring of marks would be so becoming. Cersei reminds herself to be patient as she so often has to remind Sansa. Cersei holds up one finger. _Tell me, little one-this tiny amount could not be the pleasure you felt could it? I thought not. Two, perhaps?_ Sansa shakes her head no. Cersei raises one more finger and watches Sansa’s eyes grow larger. _You mustn’t play games with me._ Cersei takes one finger and circles Sansa’s pearl, listening to her sigh and relax, rubbing back against the fingertip. _I already know_ the Queen whispers to Sansa conspiratorially _my beloved brother tasted you. I know how you loved being in his jaws_ , flick of tongue, slow bite on the girls upper arm with only a sharp intake of breath _you do love our teeth, sweetling. You can’t trick me._ Cersei slips two fingers into Sansa easily, sliding them in and out. _Has somebody been practicing? How industrious._ A low laugh, a stroke of the auburn curls. _Maybe this will open you even more_ the Queen laughs lowly at Sansa’s predicament _I have heard my little dove sucks as sweetly as a high-priced whore-quite the little prodigy. Perhaps it’s time you brought in some money for the family._ Cersei smiles and slides in another finger, opening them to stretch the girl just a bit further. _Slut. Slide back._ Sansa pushes herself back onto the Queen’s fingers mewling and moaning. Cersei grins wickedly, tugs Sansa’s hair, hard quick and sharp. _That made you grab my fingers-very good. Hold them tightly._ Cersei twists her fingers back and forth, her hand already slick (oh my little wolf-bitch, I will fuck you till you scream, I promise you, even if I murder every person in the Keep to do it), gasps and moves on.  
_I know you love kneeling before us best-even with your speech it is indescribable how you savor me on your lips, adore having my sweet brother in your mouth, tasting me always before you sleep.Yes. My sweet little wolf-bitch_ Sansa is shoving herself against the Queen’s widening fingers, pushing and panting, making soft animal noises gasping at the strain. Cersei kisses her on the forehead before breathing into her ear _yes you are mine and yes you may_.Sansa shakes, yelps and moans, sliding back and forth hard before collapsing in another sweat onto her lover’s lap, kissing the soft skin of the Queen’s legs tenderly in wordless gratitude. I think now I have an accurate idea of your feelings and deportment Remind me to write it in my ledger. Cersei wipes her hand on a clean towel and lifts the goblet of wine to her lover’s lips, then lifting her up for a kiss. _Well done. You make me very proud._ Cersei smiles tenderly , stroking Sansa’s hair, feeling Sansa cuddle against her. _I know, I know-don’t be afraid of it. You are mine. I know it._ Sansa passionately buries her face in her beloved’s lap. _Ser Jaime will be seeing to you for a few days while I must go to Highgarden, admire endless jars of rose cordial, rose jam, rosehip tea and quaint crafts. I am certain even the tourney will be overly precious._ The Queen sighs and takes another sip of wine. Sansa nuzzles. _Don’t be cross and don’t be sad. I haven’t tormented you on a ship yet, have I?_ Cersei winks. _You can think about that if you are lonely, though I am certain my dearest brother will see to it that you are not._ The Queen pulls Sansa up to look at her. _You may wish to be a little afraid-never forget that we are both lions-and fierce ones._ Slowly she bites down on Sansa’s shoulder taking extra time to ensure marks and to hear her girl gasp from pain, then hooks one finger under Sansa’s chain to lead her to the bed. _It’s not yet sunset. And wolf-girl, there is much you can do with your tongue that does not require speech. Show me._ Sansa does.


	10. Morning Dove, Redux-An Interlude (LadyxSerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa entertains a guest.

Sansa wakes from a sweet dream with kisses burning on her brow. The Queen had insisted after Sansa’s exertions that Sansa was not to be woken for farewells _my little dove needs her rest -also my little dove does not weep unless I make her-which I will upon my return_. Sansa remembers being tucked into bed, her Lady giving her a sleeping draught, drowsing, nestled into her Lady’s golden hair and the smell of her, lavender, spices, the sweet musk that Sansa could breathe for hours all around.

(She remembers bits of a dream of whispers and the sound of kisses, one side being cold briefly, a groan being muffled by a pillow, sweet muted sounds, then being warm on either side, as drunk on a whole new sweetness mix of spices and two bright kisses burning on her.) Sansa reaches up and touches the bite marks on her shoulder still pleasantly sore-if it takes too long, she will poke at them so they do not heal so fast. She had expected her Lady to laugh when she told her this, but no laughter, just a caress and a promise of more. Right now her skin feels shimmering from the sleeping draught and she is lightly chilled, her Lady is always so warm. Sansa yawns and stretches, not yet ready to get out of bed, then feels a hand on her brow and a finger to her lips. As she breathes _good morning Ser_ (his scent so like and yet so different from her Lady's) she whispers and curls up to his warmth, breathing him in. _Good morning, little dove._

Sansa sleepily reaches up for a kiss; his lips meet her as she nibbles and kisses, feeling a sweet warmth return to her body. Ser Jaime fingers the heavy chain around her neck, pulling her closer to him feeling her yield as she opens her mouth for his tongue, arching her back. Sansa reaches into his shirt, caressing as she does to her Lady each morning.  
Ser Jaime growls low from pleasure,pressing her to him as they kiss, his hand never leaving her chain. _So it seems I have a little dove for the next few days.-as my most beloved sister asks, I do._ His grin sparkles in the half dark.  
_Are you supposed to be outside?_ Sansa murmurs, feeling his hand entwine in her hair (the morning feels safe now, with this). Ser Jaime’s eyes blink bright for a moment, then return to her. _She did not wish for you to wake alone. She also told me to inform her by raven if you were insolent on waking and left...instructions._ Sansa smiles, with a curious shiver of excitement. _I was told to make you happy, Ser. As always._ It’s then that he pounces, pinning her softly to the bed. _And, my lady, is there anything that our Queen suggests?_ he growls, feeling slightly weak as Sansa presses back at him. 

Sansa rakes her fingernails across his chest feeling pleasure crackle up her body as he strokes her hair. _I have a morning routine._ _Do show me. I assure you I’ve been very good._ Ser Jaime purrs, twisting her hair in his hand (so like her Lady does). Sansa slowly lifts her chemise off and lifts his, teeth at his nipple, where he has a sharp intake of breath. _Bites in time, wolf-girl -when I say_ Ser Jaime growls in pleasure as she flicks her sweet tongue across his chest., then feels her tracing a half moon of marks on his chest. _Pretty_ Sansa whispers, leaving her own small bite as Ser Jaime slides her down his body, seeing Sansa's own crescent of teeth on her shoulder and it’s he that trembles from pleasure as Sansa sees to her morning duties, each intensely curious about the day to come. *** On her journey, the Queen lies back in the wheelhouse. Silently and calmly, she presses a thumb to the fresh marks on her thigh, to make them last longer.


	11. Night (pt1)  (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa waits and learns a lesson. Or two.

Sansa is rousing herself after the morning’s exertions, blinking at what is now the noonday sun. The bed seems large as a banquet table and ghostly with neither her Lady or Ser Jaime beside her. (She can still taste Ser Jaime after a vigorous morning routine, which he had her show him twice,  
_To be sure I understand. I may not be as clever as my dear sister and must ensure I complete my task properly_ His laugh remembered, makes her tingle with pleasure and she luxuriates, rolling over in the sheets, so soft on her body. 

_She notices that one of the pillows has been turned lengthwise, with a note pinned to the top._  
_Dear Lady Sansa_  
Meet me here after sunset. Wear a cloak and make yourself very pretty.  
Wear your high-necked dress. It pleases me.  
S.J. L.  
PS. A lovely morning, don’t you think? Sansa blushes, since the morning was decidedly lovely, makes note of the map (a small building further out near the stables) and briefly holds the message to her chest, because the thought of a secret assignation makes her feel very much like a lady in a beautiful song. (Despite having a Lady,she still adores swoopingly romantic ideas.) 

Sansa looks again and realizes that yes,she is alone in the bed. There is a wicked twinkle in her eye as she puts an arm around the pillow, breathing in deeply, then wrapping a long beautiful leg around it-then there is a sudden, startling prick at her thigh. She yelps, turning over the pillow. There is another note at the pillow with the sharp pin pointed out. Turning the note over in her hand she reads, 

and no, my lady, you may not.  
Ever yours,  
S.J. L

 

For once, Sansa’s sigh is not from pleasure.

The setting sun paints the sky blood-red and gold as Sansa watches. The day has been terribly slow and terribly strange; she has walked in the garden, flicked through a book and embroidered half of a handkerchief and now she is looking in the bedroom chest for her high-necked dress. It is a very solemn gray, the only bit of ornament the grey silk of the neck. It itches. It is tight in the bosom. Sansa hates it. Since she is a good girl she puts it on and tries to feel lovely, though thinking of Ser helps a great deal. Sansa squirms at the dressing table, curious and excited-his beautiful golden hair, and the wicked look he gave her in the morning as he slowly slid her down, his green eyes seeming to gleam in the half-dark and oh, she is suddenly slick with her heart beating quickly. She strokes her gold chain and looks in the mirror, despite her itchy dress feeling beautiful indeed. It’s a small building, one room, perhaps a cottage or tack storage-Sansa isn’t sure. She sits on a small bale of hay covered with a rug. She is nervous-perhaps something happened, perhaps the map was upside down even though she checked it five times, perhaps it’s the wrong building--then she feels a caress on her cheek, sees the soft glow of a lantern. 

_Good evening, wolf-girl._ Ser Jaime Lannister steps into the light and he is handsome; shirt the color of warm sand and Sansa doesn’t need to touch it to know it’s silk, his coat slightly open, golden hair shining in the light eyes like deep green forest pools, the kind where lost girls drown, boots to the knee, black and shining. He is exquisite Sansa thinks and she stands up, trying to fluff out her heavy skirt.

 _I think you know the way I prefer to be greeted_ His smile is sharp and he studies her waiting to see what she will do. Sansa’s mouth is suddenly bone dry and her head spinning, burning hot between her legs. She kneels before him, her heart racing.  
_Very good_ Ser Jaime says, enjoying the sight of her before him, plain skirts spread on the floor her eyes huge in the darkness, firey streaks where the light catches her hair, ghost-pale face and hands. She looks beautiful. His voice catches slightly but he goes on _Sansa. Aren’t you forgetting something?_.  
_Yes_ she whispers.  
_Yes, what?_  
_Yes, Ser_  
Sansa trembles inside hearing herself say that. (he’s not a tame lion), shivering while looking up. For a moment their eyes lock together in the dim light before she bows her head and lowers her eyes.  
_Then begin_.  
Sansa feels everything-the slight scrape of the floor against her knees, slight roughness on her hands the pounding in her body as she lowers her lips to the toe of his shining boot. Her blood is like the roaring of the sea as her lips touch the leather and she kisses, a soft sigh coming from her lips, her tongue slipping out to lick at the leather. Then she knows what to do, slowly covering the front of his boot with kisses and licks, all else falling away but him and the taste and scent, turning to lick the heel and gently at the soft curve when she feels his hand on her head, stroking her hair, gently scratching at her ears.  
_Very, very good, little one. Now the other_

Sansa lies on the floor now, her arms around Ser Jaime’s boot, licking and kissing devotedly feeling the wetness come into her smallclothes again. She adds more slow, sweet kisses, tonguing gently so as to please him. Ser Jaime sighs in pleasure, enjoying the sight of her before him, the delicate pressure of her tongue and lips on his boots, the leather so fine he swears he can fully feel each kiss as if from her bare lips. When she lies on the floor to continue her worship he can barely contain himself from pushing her down, flipping her skirt, sheathing himself in her warm, willing flesh. _Patience_ he reminds himself, bending to reach her, cupping under her chin, covering her pink lips with a long kiss. _Very, very well done, sweet girl_ He reaches up under her skirt, under her smallclothes as they kiss. She’s so slick, he’s able to slide in a finger as they kiss already and he thrusts slowly in and out of her, feeling her muscles gently tighten around him. _Oh Cersei, my love oh you clever_ he thinks hazily, sliding in another finger and feels Sansa’s muscles lightly squeeze-not wholly strong yet, but there. Ser Jaime groans, pushing harder inside, feeling both his lovers suddenly, sweetly present. _Mmm_ he says, his voice ragged. _something tells me you’ve been practicing. I think a little dove is telling me..._ He twists, his fingers and Sansa cries out sliding back. Ser Jaime holds up his fingers for her to lick, which she does, greedily, gives them a quick sharp shove back in then brazenly wipes them across her bodice. He sighs in pleasure, guiding Sansa gently toward a wall, pushing her back. With one hand, he pins her hands up above her and rubs against her, hard, hard enough so she can feel him. _I love having my coat around me even more now_ he growls, biting at her neck and shoulder both of them rubbing harder from the pain, the red blossoms against her white skin _do you know why, my darling little slut? Should I even tell you?_ She moans roughly and whispers _yes Ser, please Ser_ grinding back at him. _My lovely coat_ , he nips at her _and your sweet cunt._ he growls low in his throat _you may remember it, I believe you were screaming_ Sansa cries out, rubbing harder, _all I can think of when I wear it now is having you all around me._ He grabs a fistful of her hair. _All. Around. Me._ , pulling her over to the pile of cushions and rugs in the corner, pushing her down.  
_I’d love to fuck you bloody on my white cloak_ pinning her hands, straddling her, her straining up to kiss him, tongues furious him pulling away to growl _because my little wolf-bitch would love it_ , kissing her, her skirts kicked up and one of her beautiful legs holding around him, Ser Jaime growling _scream all you wish, there’s not a soul to hear you_ , reaching a hand under her skirts to cup her, smile like fangs _you may_. 

Sansa does scream, trembling and sobbing with the force of her body, Ser Jaime releasing her hands and holding her, reaching for a wineskin. _this one’s water_ he murmurs as she drinks, his smile turned gentle. _can’t have my wolf-girl drunk-we do have till dawn_ Sansa swallows again. _Thank you Ser_ before whispering _I’m so glad we do, Ser_ _I may need caution_ Ser Jaime says, looking into her eyes. _I’ve heard men charging into battle quieter than you _Well, my lady, I am certain we can improvise something._. He rubs his head gently against hers (Sansa gently thinking of her Lady and herself doing so at night, then enjoying the tenderness) Both of them sit quietly, breathing softly and slowly. After a quiet while, Ser Jaime looks at Sansa, smiling broadly. _When you are ready, I think you are ready for another lesson_ then grinning wickedly, _or three._ Sansa stands and it is Ser Jaime who smiles with pure delight. _


	12. Night (pt2) (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa receives a gift. Ser Jaime opens one. There is talk of hunting.

Ser Jaime lounges indolently on the pile of cushions in the corner, gazing intently at the delightful scene in front of him.

Sansa is kneeling on a low, wide wooden box in the dim light of the cottage, her arms bound behind her, balancing a book on her head,her face serene in the lamplight. The light flickers golden off the belt Ser Jaime has bound her with, the one he wears each day and his whole body twitches with pleasure to think of seeing it on her bare skin soon, so very soon. He takes a slow sip of wine, gazing at her on her knees-he could look at her forever. _There’s plenty of time to look_ he thinks and walks over quietly, lifts the book from the top of her head.

Sansa’s head remains still, her spine straight, her eyes lowered. _Come, wolf-girl_ he says to her, the words rumbling in his chest. He helps her to stand, touches her hands and fingers, strokes them. _I’m going to unbind you. Remain still._

Sansa stands balanced, poised. _Yes Ser._ There is something that drives the words deep into her, after so much silence, she sinks further, feeling herself grow wet again. her breasts tender and tingling against her tight dress. Ser Jaime smiles.  
_It seems to me that’s more of a girl’s dress, isn’t it?_ He runs his hands across her chest, feeling the tight fabric, running his hands down to where it can barely hold her rounded, sweet hips _It was, Ser._

Sansa whispers, her blood burning in her cheeks.

 _Put out your hands._ Ser Jaime takes a leather cord, binds her hands swiftly and firmly. _Walk with me._ He takes her out, over the threshold into the field in front of the cottage where there is a small lantern and his coat laid out.

Sansa shivers. _Cold, my lady? I’m certain the air will do you good_ He smiles at her, baring his teeth, nipping at her ear (she’ll bruise). _Besides, you’re hot as a forge inside_ He kisses her, pushing his tongue into her mouth, feeling her bend back. _If I had that much heat in me, I’d melt_ Sansa sighs deeply, lowering her eyes, half afraid to look at her Ser. 

Ser Jaime stiffens at her bowed head, lowered eyes, takes a deep breath, then lays her down on his coat. _How nice for you wolf-girl-leather._ He smiles wickedly and whispers in her ear. _I have six pairs of boots. You will taste every inch of them_ Feeling her tremble he whispers, stroking her. _I’ll try to make sure there’s no blood on them-but I make no guarantees._ He feels Sansa’s body buck and shake and she softly moans low in her throat. _I’d be so proud if I was going to battle and you were kissing my boots-no pretty favors or soft kisses from you, just your tongue on me, my beautiful lady on her knees, licking my boots so lovingly_ Sansa makes a strangled,joyful cry, like it is being ripped from her throat. Ser Jaime strokes her face, straddling her, pinning her down. Sweet girl . Ser Jaime covers her mouth with a kiss. _Spread._  
Sansa spreads her legs. Ser Jaime observes, running a finger along her thighs covered in the itchy, dark wool. He slowly picks up his dagger and without warning, tears a strip from the skirt. _Open_ he says and Sansa opens her mouth wide as he gently places the strip in her mouth, tucking the ends, tenderly under her hair. 

_Sansa feels like liquid flame runs through her body, like every part tingles. She can smell the night air, look up at the stars, breathe in the scent of spices and leather so like her lioness but his, _my lion_ she thinks, feeling it shake her to the core. She imagines her lioness holding her, kissing her brow, biting at her while Ser Jaime whispers into her ear, rubbing against her. It feels like she is two places at once and Sansa breathes as she has been taught, feeling Ser Jaime tongue along her cheek. _Be here, wolf-girl__ he breathes roughly, kissing her atop her gag, running his hands along her body. It is then that Ser Jaime, smiles wickedly again. He sits between her spread legs and in the dim light she sees a flash of metal,, watches him unsheathe his dagger. He growls hungrily at her. _How foolish of me_ he says, _my beloved sister left me such a gift that I haven’t even opened yet_ He leans forward,pressing the flat of the blade to her cheek where Sansa can smell the metal. She feels herself open and wet, panting, yet stays still. _Very good, my little love_ Ser Jaime murmurs to her. _Keep still, I don’t want you cut._ ,whispering _yet_. _Ser Jaime studies his prisoner, hands over her head, eyes wide, legs spread. _Delicious__ he thinks and slowly touches the tip of the dagger to the collar, whisperingly slicing it in two, guiding the blade down between her breasts, watching the fabric fall away to reveal her full breasts in all their beauty, thick chain of Lannister gold between them, slicing down further through dress and smallclothes to reveal the soft roundness of her belly, her long beautiful legs (with his initials still visible on one of her sweet thighs.) A few more quick flicks and the sleeves fall away, leaving Sansa naked under the bright stars. Ser Jaime sheathes his dagger, looks at her in delight, long tender strokes upon her body and hair, to calm her. _Good girl, my good, good girl._ , holding her and kissing her. He unbinds her hands to rub her hands between his, stroke her arms, kiss her and nibble her on the neck until she is breathing hotter, quicker  
_Oh Ser_ Sansa whispers, stretching it out like a prayer. The night has turned chill quickly and Ser Jaime scoops her up in his coat and takes her back in, wrapping her in a blanket. _Just a sip_ he says, holding a wineskin to her lips. _Need you warm_ he smiles, _for what’s to come_. He reaches into the bag and pulls out a bundle wrapped in silk, places it gently in her lap. _Open it_ he says, running his fingers through her hair. Sansa unwraps it, feels heaviness, then feels it fall between her open legs. Sansa reaches down and pulls up a length of gold chain with a wrought gold ring of leaves at one end, red leather loop at the other. _Sansa’s mouth is dry,her heart pounding only able to whisper _oh, oh_ . Ser Jaime looks intently. _Do you like it? Your Lady and I chose it for you, had the ring made to fit your chain_ Ser Jaime pauses looking at Sansa. _Tears, my lady?_ _Happy_ Sansa whispers leaning up to kiss him, teeth gently tugging at his lips, kissing deeply. _Oh, Ser, Oh My Lady_ she murmurs and the sound of it melts Ser Jaime’s heart , fueling his lust like wildfire. He trembles, trying to hold back. When he opens his eyes, he feels the leather loop in his hand, Sansa lifting up her chain. When he clasps it, holding the leash, he sighs. _Kneel, my sweet wolf-girl_. Sansa kneels, the leash hanging golden between her breasts, herself in the dim light pale as the moon, her hair flames. _Yes Ser_ she responds. Before Ser Jaime can offer a command she drops to her hands and knees, crawling to him, curling into his chest as she did before._ Ser Jaime looks at her, burning. _Lovely._ _Up_. She kneels, he stands and it is intoxicating to have her, fair and nude at his hand like a falcon or a favored dog. He places a fingertip to her lips and feels her take it in, licking, sucking, tasting him. (Oh little dove, we will do things to you that you cannot imagine yet, we will make you scream we will know every inch of your body, you will know ours, we will take you and you will kiss our feet for it, we will feast on you oh _yes_ ), Taking the chain, Ser Jaime leads her back to the pillows _Lie back_ he says. Sansa does, lying languid and beautiful like the paintings of slave girls Ser Jaime has seen in private rooms, where men go to talk of secrets, away from prying eyes. Ser Jaime thinks briefly that for all their power, they wouldn’t know what to do if one appeared dripping in jewels and perfume. The wolf-girl is the rarest of treasures. Being Lannisters, Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime know that. Being Lannisters, they will guard this treasure close to them. Always. Ser Jaime lies beside her, stroking her skin, easing her, gently rubbing against her till she wriggles and squirms. _Mmm_ he murmurs. _Spread yourself for me_. Sansa looks briefly puzzled, then spreads her legs wide. _Very nice._. He wraps her hair in his hand, tugging at her. _When your Ser tells you that, you spread your cunt. Use those pretty fingers_. He growls gently, softly tugging the leash. _Have you forgotten your manners, Sansa?_ _Sansa looks into his eyes, moves her hand lower, says _Yes, Ser_. _That’s right._ he says, gently tapping her knees so they fall open. Sansa’s fingers tremble as she slides them down, pressing and fingering to show her folds, her pearl, her soft wetness. _Good_ Ser Jaime purrs, stroking her belly. _Spread them like a whore-it should be easy for you, my sweet slut, open up__ Sansa feels a flood of wetness pour down, knows he can see, blushes hard. _You’re like a river._ Sansa moans softly, shamefully. Ser Jaime cannot wait, slides in two fingers, feels her muscles gripping at them, _One more for me_ he growls, sliding in a third. _Mmm._ Ser Jaime says, leaning to whisper. _My sister was right, you could take a hand._ Sansa moans, his fingers increasing pressure. _Someday._ he says with a vicious grin. Sansa cries sharply as he twists his fingers . _Did that hurt, my little love ?_ Ser Jaime whispers twisting harder. _Good._ He keeps whispering, moving against her, hard, fingers slamming into her. _I think later I’ll take you to the Kingswood-leave you in a clearing, have you try to find your way out._ Ser Jaime pushes against her, turning her so he can rub freely against her back and hips,wetting himself with her fluids. As he slides against her, he feels Sansa shudder.  
_I’ll track you, sweet girl, watch you lose your way, circle and that’s when I’ll pounce._  
Sansa howls with pleasure, her whole body afire, all there is is her and Ser and the pounding wetness between her thighs. Ser Jaime slicks himself, agonizingly hard, pushing Sansa onto the ground. _I’ll push you to the ground, sink my teeth into you and fuck you like the little-wolf bitch you are, hard and cruel and you’ll already be so wet for us,you won’t care that you’re in the dirt being bitten, fucked like an animal been hunted for pleasure_ Sansa pants. grinding hard moaning _yes Ser oh yes Ser,_ turning her head to look at him with her deep clear eyes. Ser Jaime pushes harder, to his limit, sinks his teeth into Sansa’s soft skin and comes, pouring himself onto her. _look at me, wolf-girl_ he growls and wipes his hand across her pretty face, shuddering again deep inside looking at her.  
As she turns, brushes her fingers across her lips and licks, he groans _Oh Sansa_ kissing her, both of their faces damp, still kissing, holding on. He recovers first, reaching a towel, gently wiping her face and back clean before he tidies himself. _you are the best girl, the finest girl, I am so proud of you, well, well done_ Sansa lies still, gasping for breath. _Ser._ she breathes out again tenderly, sleepily. _I think you deserve a kiss, sweet one_ and it’s then that Ser Jaime gently parts her legs, kisses and licks until Sansa cries out high and sweet, collapses spent and shuddering against him murmuring _thank you Ser, oh thank you_ brushing his lips with kisses before he can wipe his face again. It’s then that Ser Jaime has to wrap the sleepy wolf-girl in his coat, her cloak, walk her like a drunkard back to the keep. She slumps heavy on his shoulder. Ser Jaime is grateful that at least she's not singing. He slips her up a back staircase, tucks her into bed, after wiping her bites clean, holding her while she drinks water, her hair knotted with grass, clumped. Ser Jaime decides if he is to keep her safe, there is no reason not to sleep in his sister’s bed, holding their beautiful Sansa while she sleeps. He catches Cersei’s scent on the curtains, imagines the way they’d kiss goodnight over their sleeping girl, dreaming now, her fingers on her chain and leash, peaceful. _Besides,_ he thinks before he falls asleep, dawn just barely breaking, Sansa has a routine and it’s clear she has to stick to it. Queen's orders.  
Sansa sleeps,warm and safe between the paws of her lion Her dreams are sweet.


	13. Interlude: In Highgarden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words, dark and beautiful.

Cersei sits at a dressing table. teeth gritted, arming herself like a warrior to be gracious and polite.  
She wishes she could hit something.

Then she reads the note, come in by raven. The Queen thanks the headwind that brought it so quickly, though she does not speak to trees, spirits nor the Seven.

_The little dancer continues to excel; fair of form lithe and graceful. She has accepted further lessons and will I hope, choose to continue a longterm course of study as she plans to continue her singing. With both these in harmony, she could be the very model of a lady._

_She has also expressed an interest in the pleasures of the hunt which can only bring further artistry to her formidable skills._

 

For the first time in days, Cersei’s smile is genuine. She runs to bolt the door before the duties of the afternoon begin. In the moment she has alone, she flushes, her face aflame with pleasure. _Yes my brother most precious of lovers, yes my little dove_. She longs to kiss the welts and wounds she knows are already on her girl’s body, follow them with her own.   
Cersei blazes bright on the inside thinking of Jamie’s cruelty blooming fully again, like a a dark, bloody rose-rich and beautiful, not like the pale, inspid roses that surround her today. Exquisite.  
 _In time_ , Cersei thinks, frenzied by the thought of their tenderly bloodied wolf-girl crushed sweetly between them, lover, prey, pure beauty.

Cersei wishes she could pull her little dove under her skirts to satisfy her. For now, there is only her hand. 

Silently, the Queen shudders, only the smallest of sighs passing from her lips, her bliss invisible to anyone who could see her even now, always, always saving face. 

Then she pushes her hair back into place, oils herself with lavender. She feels a scratch from the pin holding the note safe inside her dress, close to her, her sustenance in this place. The Queen breathes in, smooths her face into pale marble and gold and goes out to perform her duties.


	14. Prelude: What's to Come (pt 1) (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa looks in the mirror. Ser Jaime loses a glove. Discussion of honor.

Sansa wakes, slowly opening her eyes to the dim light. It must be mid-day or even a little past. She feels deliciously sore and tender in places, stretches like a cat,runs her hand around the golden chain. pointing her toes elegantly and walks over her chest to pick up her hand mirror even though she knows last night was real.

Lifting up her chemise, Sansa sees she has scratches, tiny cuts, marks on her wrists where the cord dug in and she feels stickiness on her lips, lots on the small of her back. She reaches down to touch her chain and feels the new leash, her heart fluttering. Her hair is matted and messy It was real. Sansa wants to dance, but instead she does a half twirl with the mirror.

The door opens. _Good afternoon, wolf-girl._ Sansa smiles brightly at the sight of her Ser, feeling suddenly embarrassed being caught with a half-pulled chemise. If she looks like a clawed, messy animal, he is radiant. Sansa’s eyes take it all in-golden breastplate with a fiercely clawed lion, radiant with golden scales and mail, heavy tanned golden brown gloves, belt, jeweled sword,gold all with the pure radiance of his white cloak over all, high cinnamon leather boots, his impossibly golden hair like her Lady’s,emerald eyes that seem carved by master jewelers today, they are so bright. She smiles and gazes,drinking it all in _oh Ser_ she sighs, _you are beautiful_. Ser Jaime sets down the tray he carries and turns all the way around. Sansa flushes with pleasure to the tips of her ears.

 

 _I thought I’d give you something lovely to think about_ SerJame grins and holds up the hem of his cloak for kisses, coming to sit on the side of the bed _I won’t make you kneel right now. but this will do nicely_ Sansa runs her lips along the soft white fabric adding in soft tongueflicks as they both breathe quietly. He smiles. _Ah, I thought you might like that_ Ser Jaime whispers in her ear _I want you wet when you see me like this. I want to look across the room at you and know your smallclothes are wet, you open for me_. He grins, nibbling at her ear. _I wear this a lot. Too bad for you, wolf-girl._ Sansa wriggles in pleasure, gently stroking at his breastplate, tracing her fingers over the lion. Ser Jaime sighs in delight,swears he can feel Sansa’s hot little fingers through the metal.

Cupping her breast and squeezing softly he wraps his arm around her covering her in his white cloak. Ser Jaime traces her lips with a finger, Sansa breathing heavily. _Kiss_ he purrs into her ear, pressing the finger to her lips. Sansa kisses passionately,laving the leather with her tongue and then in a delicious surprise, she tilts her head to take his finger all the way in sliding her mouth up and down, warm and wet,looking up into his eyes.

Ser Jaime is suddenly, furiously hard. _Men would kill to champion you, little dove_ He puts his hand on the top of her head He snarls in her ear, nipping at her ear, breathing raggedly his chest rising and falling.

 

_I’d kilI to fuck that pretty mouth._ Ser Jaime snarls, jerks his finger roughly from her throat, reaches under her chemise, pushes a finger inside her harshly, feels Sansa clutch at him. He bares his teeth and snarls at her. Sansa shudders as he roughly pushes in another finger, feeling her squeeze. _You’d be my Queen of Love and Beauty with a crown of roses and my seed dribbling from your lips_

 

(Inside, Sansa feels all blush, all embarrassment. Ser's words make her feel like something has just squeezed her, melting her and she kisses Ser Jaime hard, their teeth tearing at each other, tongues thrusting.)

Sansa moans low and deeply as he works his leather gloved fingers in her. _I’d rip open your pretty dress and fuck you right there in the dirt, while I’m all sweat and blood._ .Ser Jaime kisses her softly and then his smile is full of fangs.

_Not a bit of time for sweet words after a fight. Just hard fucking, just your wet hot cunt. For me. You'll cry, pretty queen._  
Sansa moans with delight and her knees fall open.  
He groans, his cock straining, held tight. Sansa is wet, moaning sweetly milking at his fingers, greedy for more even now. 

_I’d fuck you into the dirt, push your crown of roses till you bleed for me, show them how a real Queen of Love and Beauty treats her champion_

_You’d lick me clean, like a real wolf-bitch, my whole body,_ Sansa moans, reaches down to touch her pearl,which he lets her . Ser Jaime moans, so hard and so very unable to touch himself, even get out to rub at her, but he shoves in another finger inside her to help.Her squeal is a treat.). _Ser Jaime growls fiercely. _and you, my sweet wolf-bitch would thank me for it. Your cunt is a far better prize than a pretty handkerchief,my beautiful wolf-bitch_ He feels Sansa hold in a scream, _Quiet_ Sansa spasms around his fingers, and with a held in cry, soaks Ser Jaime’s glove to fall back, briefly sated crying softly _Thank you Ser, thank you_ Ser Jaime kisses her on the brow, watching her catch her breath. _Hmm._ he whispers, stroking her hair. _I’ll just have to win more now._ Sansa smiles so sweetly he is almost undone. _Naughty girl_ he says, smiling. _Now I need new gloves._ Removing them, he taps her cheek. _I couldn’t do anything but fuck you, little dove-wicked girl_ he says,letting her curl under his cloak again. He smiles wickedly. _You’ll pay for it tonight._ Sansa smiles back half exhausted again. _Yes, Ser_. Her eyes sparkle._ _My lady, you are incorrigible._ Ser Jaime kisses her hand, eyes like green fire.  
(He knows she’s trying not to giggle, though he supposes it natural with him coming to impress her then being desperately unable to free his cock. Ser Jaime has plans to deal with this bit of insolence.) He brings over the tray. _Time to eat._ Lady Sansa looks at the tray-pot of tea and cup,chunks of pale bread studded with golden rasins, honey, heavy plate of thin slices of rare beef. She feels slightly embarrassed for Ser Jaime. _Ser, was it all right for you to bring this-shouldn’t a maid, not you..._ Ser Jaime puts a finger to Sansa’s lips, regarding her with a cocked eyebrow and quizzical expression. _My lady, do you think it demeaning for your lover to bring you a meal?_ As it leaves his lips, they are both lightly startled at the word hanging in the air, breath stops and then Ser Jaime goes on. _Don’t be afraid-my honor_ he chuckles _whatever it may be, is not sullied by this. Little dove, I have men on the field and I see to them. _He picks up a piece of bread, butters it and holds it to her mouth. _Open_ Sansa slowly eats it from his fingers, soft, sweet delicious. _Meat now_ Ser Jaime, watching her pick up a piece and eat furiously. _Sadly, I can’t feed my wolf-girl from my hands when she needs to build up her strength._ He looks at her lecherously and says _Don’t worry yourself-you’ll be taking things from my hand soon enough.__  
_Drink your tea.__ _Sansa sips-it tastes a bit bitter but not unpleasant. _Eldeberry, willow bark,dandelion-to keep you and your blood strong-and to help with your pain. Every drop_. Ser Jaime smiles sharply. _Don't worry,sweet girl-there will plenty of pain for you to come. Patience_ Sansa's face burns as she drinks. Ser Jaime covers her mouth with a kiss, running his fingers over her body, pressing her to him, so that the armor he wears will mark her, wishing he could burn the golden lion into her pale, sweet skin _like a slave_ he thinks,tangling his hand in her hair and tugging.  
He presses harder, hard enough to hurt Sansa, pleased that she does not cry out. Sansa embraces him, kissing sweetly, enjoying the feel of the armor marking her skin. She presses tight against him and their kiss grows fiercer as he snaps at her tongue and lips, thrusting his tongue into her as she yields. Sansa feels herself melting to the core, making soft gasps of pleasure as the metal sinks into her flesh. He breaks the embrace regretfully, but the little wolf must eat. After all, she'll be busy later._ Good girl he whispers. _You’re going to eat all your food, wash, then make yourself pretty for me. Come to my chambers tonight just before sunset._ _Yes, Ser._ she says, swallowing a bite of beef. _He kisses her on the forehead. _I’ll see you then, wolf-girl._ _As he turns to her, _You do know what they say when they see the Commander of the Kingsguard with a breakfast tray?_ Ser waits, looking at the wolf-girl devouring her red meat, chemise slipping to show the soft skin on her back. _Pardon me, Ser,_. _Her smile and happy laughter follows him._ Her feels his duties for the day will be terribly slow,though he still smiles wickedly on the way, stirring with delight.There is the night, where the wolf-girl will be all his and Ser Jaime Lannister has plans. He smiles a devilish smile and walks on to the Kingsguard,__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music inspiration:
> 
> NIN-Get Down Make Love  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h79Y4jRKKtc


	15. Temperance (What's to Come pt 2) (SerxCub, Lady)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Jaime gives justice. Sansa pays a debt. Plans are afoot.

It is getting closer to sunset at the Red Keep and Sansa has been busying herself. She has sent a raven to Highgarden; she sat there with quill and ink, but couldn’t come up with words, so she drew a heart, signed it S. sanded it and sent it off. Sansa dozed lightly after that, missing her Lady, falling into another dream, where she, her Lady and Ser were lying in tall grass watching the sun set.Or rise. Sansa had woken before there was more.

Sansa has washed her hair till it shines rosy and bright again, cleaned away every last bit of dirt, fixed her hair and put on the prettiest dress she has (smoky blues-slightly behind the current fashion but still lovely.) The lower neckline shows a tiny bit of the chain shining bright against her fair skin. Sansa wishes it were lower.

Sansa wants to fidget, but sits with her hands quietly folded. Ladies do not fidget.

There is a little flicker like a candle flame inside her- she is going to see her lover. Her lover. It sounds like such a grown-up thing that it makes her smile and she hums a little song. She looks covetously at Cersei’s dressing goods,the gold jar with lavender-scented rouge, oils from Dorne, such pretty things. Sansa touches the chain at her neck which makes her feel dazzling and even though she knows she shouldn’t, her fingers walk over to the rouge jar and she opens it-to find a small piece of crimson edged parchment with one word. 

NO.

Sansa doesn’t need rouge after that. Her blush is enough.

***  
Ser Jaime Lannister finds himself waiting for the sun to set. He smiles, with a shimmering edge to it, like a fine finish on a beautiful blade and looking at the other white cloaks around him brings on thoughts of Sansa’s skin. He thinks of the expanse of her back, her pale arms and how they would look dappled with blood. _Like jewels on snow_ , he thinks, stirring, feeling a fierce hunger for the little wolf-girl. thinking of her eyes looking up at him, her soft pink tongue at his glove just hours earlier. Ser Jaime wants to snarl at the sun, tell it to hurry- he is already thinking of Sansa at his feet, where she belongs. _Oh my love, my Cersei_ he thinks _someday there will be stories of how the lioness queen and her blood-clawed brother stole her away._

Ser Jaime smiles again-it’s never too late to tie her up and carry her off to somewhere, sheerly for pleasure. He can hear her heart fluttering and the sun has moved, just a tiny bit. Ser Jaime Lannister growls in frustration. For once he has to wait for something he wants.

***

Sansa knocks softly on the door, her hair shining and eyes sparkling in the dim light. Ser Jaime opens the door and ushers her in, his golden hair shining in the firelight. Before he can say anything, she drops to her knees, her skirts a pool of blue around her, head erect. Ser Jaime smiles. 

_Very pretty, wolf girl_ and strokes her hair, pulling her up for a kiss. Ser Jaime holds her in place, slowly, deliberately penetrating her mouth then feeling a nibble. _Naughty._ he says. tapping her on the fingers. _I do not recall giving you permission to bite, wolf-girl. Perhaps I need to bring you to heel._

 

Ser Jaime smiles again, tugging at her hair.

_I also know you were a bad wolf-girl today._

With eyes wide in horror Sansa sees him unfold the note from Cersei’s rouge jar.  
_Trying to borrow something from my sweet sister, the lioness, your Lady?_  
Sansa’s face falls. Ser Jaime's face is stern.  
_Bad girl._ He pins her hands behind her back. 

_I’m sorry Ser._ Sansa whispers, deeply ashamed. 

_I don’t think bad cubs like you get to talk,_ Ser Jaime smiles.  
_Hands up. You have a place here and you need to be reminded of it._ Sansa’s eyes whirl as she sees Ser Jaime holding his dagger. _Naughty little bitches don’t get clothes_. _Be still or you will regret it._  
Ser Jaime presses up against her, rubbing hard against her. _Mmm. Soft. I’ll enjoy this._ Ser Jaime slices off the first ribbon holding her dress closed. Sansa is deeply red, blushing, breathing hard and Ser Jaime’s dagger rips her dress open to the belly, her pale skin glowing in the dim room. Another slice (the point of the dagger against her skin, red mark like a claw swipe and her breasts are bared and her dress is ribbons on the floor. Sansa shivers, then her smallclothes but she does not hide, then feels his finger rough, pressing on her pearl.  
_Already wet like a little beast. And I’m going to use you like one, one who needs to remember her place. Ser Jaime whispers to her I carry this blade every day-every time I look at it, I’ll think of stripping my little wolf-bitch_. He pauses. _Or bleeding her_  
He pushes her slowly to the floor.

_All I could think about today was your sweet cunt, which I can do with as I like, your pretty mouth full of my cock, swallowing like an alley whore...I’m going to make you go slower so you like the taste. I want my lady to know and love what her Ser tastes like._

Sansa moans softly. 

_Girls moan_. Ser Jaime says. _Girls have words. You don’t. You should...mew. No_ He taps her on the head, tugging on her leash.  
_Hmm. I bet you would bark prettily, sweet little lapdog, begging for attention or a treat. _He fixes her with icy green eyes. _Hands and knees. Now.__ Sansa obeys, shaking, still wet, her heart hammering, Howl._ _Sansa’s eyes fill with tears, her face flushes hot._ _Ser Jaime smiles at her, green eyes bright as steel . _Howl or I’ll take you out to the kennel to sleep with my other hunting bitches._ _ _Sansa’s face flushes red to pale and back. _I don’t think you’d like to sleep on a pile of straw or drink as they do, would you.? You certainly wouldn't desire their scraps._ He scratches her head tugging back and forth. _ _Though you would be so pretty along my horse when I go out-I’d be the envy of everyone with such a sweet, loyal creature on all fours beside me._ _Sansa’s throat forces out a tiny yip._ _Mmm._ Ser Jaime says. Pretty-but not quite there. He caresses her hair. Shall I do that? Make you run in the mud beside me on all fours? He pulls harder at her hair. Sansa shudders, feeling herself slick, ashamed, but still leaning up for Ser Jaime’s caress. _I know you want to.You know you want to.. I know you already drink out of pretty bowls when you are told to._ _Sansa lies on the floor head between her hands, hair covering her face. _I want to hear my little wolf-bitch howl.__ _With tears running down her face, Sansa howls and howls again._ _Good wolf-bitch, again for me._ Sansa howls rough and beautiful. Ser Jaime is not sure if he has heard anything so sweet and raw, is shivering on the inside. _Good girl. Very, very good girl._  
He strokes her head scratching behind the ears, feeling her still shaking.  
_There. By my boots. That’s right, good girl, your Ser is very proud of you.Your debt to me is paid, all done. Well done. No more tears, now. Good, good girl. I am so pleased, so proud_ _Sansa clings to Ser Jaime’s cinnamon colored boots feeling safer, giving them tiny licks with the point of her pink tongue. Ser Jaime holds her leash and with the other hand runs his fingers through her hair, working out any knots (like her Lady does) Sansa relaxes into it, arms wrapped around the warm leather,. He puts down a cup of water and she drinks thirstily, settling, coming to. Ser Jaime takes the cup. _Feeling a little better?__ Sansa nods.  
_Good._ Sansa’s eyes run up and down Ser Jaime’s boots, the cinnamon, glossy uniform ones. _Do they make you wet, little one?_ he growls low at her, assertive, strong. Sansa nods sighing.  
_Lick more, sweet girl. Very good. Make sure they shine for me tomorrow._ _Sansa kisses each toe, covering in with a warm wash of tongue, inhaling Ser’s smell of spices, warm sweat and the leather. She thinks of him coming to her in her chambers with kisses and words that made her so soft and supple on the inside that she sighs, licking each boot up to the calf, up and down, every one a kiss and every one a prayerful whisper _Oh Ser._ Sansa is drunk on the sensation, the feel, the scent, tonguing and licking again. _Ser Jaime relaxes, sighing in pleasure at the feel of her tongue on him, seeing her nude body pressed against his boots, the gold chain glinting between her pale breasts, gold chain of the leash like small bells as she moves oh my wolf-girl he groans, writhing at the pleasure of this intimacy. Voiceless Sansa looks up for a moment into the depths of jade and emerald that are his eyes, rolls over showing her soft belly, tender neck, all the vulnerable places that are his to enjoy. She slides down and lifts her tongue, leaving a long kiss on the sole of his boot, then takes her long red hair, brushing against the leather so it shines. Ser Jaime moans, so painfully aroused, so wanting of her, his delight._ He can’t think of any gods to thank, but lifts her up, kisses her furiously, with a hunger that has burned in him since seeing her in the morning _please wolf-girl please_ and her fingers, are working at him and then her soft mouth open. Ser Jaime cries out as she takes him in her mouth, holding her head, feeling her tilt back as Cersei has taught her, sheathing him in her sweet and willing mouth. _Good girl, oh good wolf-girl_ and for a moment he thinks of Cersei kissing him, while her hand in Sansa’s red hair guiding her head, lightning-bright in sweetness and then it is Sansa’s mouth taking him and all he can feel is her. _Sansa licks and caress, only aware of her Ser’s flesh and taste, hearing him gasp and murmur _oh good girl, so good, so sweet beautiful girl_. She feels him thrust his hips as he fills her mouth, watching as she softly tongues him for the last bit, licks and smiles and looking at her Ser Jaime is the one shaking. _Sansa hugs at his knees, her hair falling like a rose red curtain over him as he strokes her hair, tends to himself, bends over to hold her and they are both gripping each other. _oh wolf-girl you make me so happy_ he whispers into her pink shell of an ear, hot breath so warm on her. She sighs sweetly and there is a soft trickle of wetness on his knee. Tears. _Happy?_ he whispers . Sansa stares, concerned. Ser Jaime remembers. _Oh. You may speak, wolf-girl_  
_Yes, Ser_ she says, kissing each knee. He pulls her up for a long sweet kiss and all is quiet sweetness._ It is late at night as Ser Jaime carries Sansa back to the Queen’s chambers, wrapped in his coat, red hair and fair hands poking out like as if Sansa were a fair beauty of another world. She smiles up at him, not sleeping yet. Ser Jaime curls into bed around her, the scent of lavender wrapping around them, another pleasure and Sansa stirs against him. _Mmm._ he whispers, _you’ve earned a reward_ and holding her gently he rubs along her pearl, slowly, slowly sliding in one finger than another, letting her rub against him until she shakes in pleasure, curling next to his chest. _I have plans for you tomorrow, princess_ Ser Jaime murmurs, rubbing his golden head against hers, her rubbing back in the darkness. _Good. Ser._ Sansa murmurs half asleep clinging tight to her lion as they sleep at last. Outside the stars shine bright and the sun waits to rise. It will be a beautiful day.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: News from far away. New places. The songs of blades.


	16. Interlude: Wings, Words

To Highgarden, from King's Landing

_Your pupil continues to be an asset; skilled, quickwitted and always eager to learn the newest steps, while remaining aware and accepting gentle correction for her mistakes.  
I would care to teach her the very latest, should her singing master feel she has time and aptitude and should she agree, being thus devoted to her dance. _

_Would her singing master be so generous, it would be my pleasure to have her as a long-term student._

_I look upon her and feel that you will be truly pleased-an ear for talent is rare and you have it-rarer too is such an enthusiastic and inventive pupil. A rare beauty and a treasure._

_I look forward to your return. The court has been silent too long without your song._

 

To King's Landing, from Highgarden  
 _Look to the moon. I think you will find an auspicious time. It would bring a great deal of richness to her song. She has completed that step in music, but it would be of great benefit to both her dance and her song. She is at your disposal.  
Should she agree to a long-term course of study of dance as well as song, her singing master can only greet it with delight._

_Her skills and beauty could only be glorious under the tutelage of both masters. Imagine. A rare beauty indeed. A perfect jewel of a lady._

_I have been too long without dancing; perhaps I could entice you to partner me one evening. My feet can only be lighter in your presence._


	17. Blood on Snow  (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Jaime serves dinner. Sansa matriculates. A most pleasurable bargain.

Ser Jaime has swept Sansa back to her Lady’s rooms wrapped warmly in his coat. _Keep it with you, wolf-girl. You know I’ll be back for it._ He pauses briefly with a wicked grin. _Lie in it and think of me-and no you may not. Sunset, my quarters. The door will be unlocked._

He kisses her hand with a soft brush of tongue before hurrying and all Sansa can manage is a quick kiss to his cloak, her lips burning,though he turns back to smile as he strides down the hall.She curls up in bed, wrapped naked in her Ser’s coat, inhaling the sweet smell of spices and leather, the soft musk of his sweat, her Lady’s sheets around her, a waft of lavender. She does curl up and sleep, warm inside it thinking of Ser around her.

Her eyes from another sweet dream, yawning and waking, stretching fingers to toes. Afternoon. Sansa feels the sweet anticipation building again, a fluttering starting in her ribcage like it’s her nameday, a slow tingle spreading to all of her body, warming between her legs. She snuggles in the coat for an extra few minutes since she can’t do anything else.

After she has washed and dressed, she waits quietly, nervously. Ser’s rooms are different; her Lady’s things are here, Sansa’s own small things, everything seems safer-she knows what happens here. But Sansa is brave.

As the sun sets, she slips on her cloak, walks reasonably, quietly to Ser’s rooms even though she wants to run.

His door swings open as he said it would. It is empty and quiet, he has not yet returned, the space is not yet alive. Sansa runs her fingers along the sides of some things-chairs, clothespress, table, feels her feet on the soft rug, tries not to look at the bed, but she can’t make herself not. She runs her fingers along the carvings, her heart beating quickly and then hurriedly, she buries her face in his pillow and breathes in. Spices and honey of his own skin-and the room has other smells, metal, polish, leather with a solemnity about it. Powerful.

Sansa feels like she has wandered into a lion’s den, feels like she might run, but she doesn’t want to.. She focuses on that, breathing in until she is calm. _It’s all right_ she thinks _Ser lives here._ She composes herself, fluffs out her skirts, feels her hair for anything errant and makes herself sit down.

She can’t bring herself to a chair, so she sits by his, dozing softly, head against the base. Then, there is a noise and startled, she starts, leaping.

 _Why, you jump right up when I’m coming in the door. Waiting for me all day, wolf girl?_ Ser Jaime Lannister grins at the sleepy girl curled up by his chair.

Sansa blushes. _No Ser._

Ser Jaime smiles at her, teeth bright. _Hm, perhaps someday you will be. I could chain you to the table and give you a nice soft pillow to sleep on_ he whispers. _I think a good little wolf-girl could like that._ Sansa gasps quietly. _Oh, so you would._ He looks at her, smiling sharply. _Good-because I'd do it anyway._ His eyes sparkle green and gold and he sets a tray on the table, unshouldering a bag.

 

Sansa is curious, but composes herself again. She’s excited, but all she does is curl and uncurl her toes so it doesn’t show.

Ser Jaime sits down, turns back to Sansa. She is kneeling already, her hair swept to the side so he can see the softness of that lovely place at the back of her neck, her chain glittering like captive sunlight, another modest blue-grey dress ( _why must Northern women dress like little girls?_ he wonders). Ser Jaime admires the sweet curve of her body, the way her eyes are lowered under her long lashes. Perfect. He puts the tip of his finger under her chin to look up into his eyes. _Very pretty._ He leans down to kiss her and she reaches up . Ser Jaime takes her head in his hands, letting her kiss him, slip her tongue between his lips till he nibbles back. She is eager tonight and when the kiss is broken, Ser Jaime Lannister is flushed from desire like pink-cheeked Sansa. He breathes in, smiles, cockily.

_You’ve noticed haven’t you?_ Sansa looks up and while he has no heavy armor he wears the garb and cloak of the Kingsguard. It’s her eyes’ turn to sparkle and her heart beats faster. He shimmers, achingly beautiful. Sansa looks at him, already feels herself soft and wet. 

_I remembered you like that. Naughty girl._

He tugs at her golden chain until she is looking into his deep green eyes, so dark and sweet today. _I can’t wait to watch you squirm in court,_ He whispers into her ear: _You’ll be standing there being sweet_ -he kisses her quickly on the lips- _and gracious;I’ll know you’re wet, open and longing for me. And you can do nothing. Unless. I. Say._  
Sansa sighs long and low, softly rocking her hips He grins, his teeth sharp and sweet. _And if I said, you’d crawl across to me in front of every one of them to lick my boots, my little love._ She moans softly. _Hands and knees. Come to me, wolf-girl._ Sansa crawls slowly to Ser’s boots.

_Kiss._

Sansa kisses the toe of his black boot starting softly to lick, losing herself in the taste and feel of the leather, worshiping him with her her lips and tongue licking firmly as her body lowers closer.  
.Ser Jaime sighs with pleasure. _Good girl. I had them shined today so you could see your pretty face in them._ He whispers _and I was hard today thinking of my sweet wolf-girl waiting for me._ Sansa’s body trembles, blushing as she licks, feeling her body quiver as Ser Jaime strokes her head, her red hair, gently scratching behind her ears, pressing her face just a bit lower so he can feel more of her soft pink tongue.

He leans lower. _I kept thinking about your tongue on my boots, your mouth around me, tasting my seed, swallowing. I wanted you very much-and here you are_. He tugs on her chain, slipping the leash on. Sansa groans, an animal sound of pleasure, her body shuddering. 

(Sansa already feels herself melting, growing soft, her mouth watering.)

Ser Jaime tilts his head back growling from the sweetness of that sound, his skin tingling, his blood pulsing, his cock immediately hard , looking at the loop on his hand and her at the end of the chain, her eyes languid as her lids flutter in bliss.

_Up._ He pulls her to him and kisses her. Sansa kisses back, nipping at his tongue. _Naughty._ He smiles wickedly at her, just as Sansa adores. _You know I’ll have to see to that, sweet girl. Come._

They eat-honeyed chicken, apricots, almonds. Sansa sits by his chair. _Hands folded. Very good. Open._ Ser Jaime feeds her gently from his fingertips each small bite. _I told you I’d give you treats. Such a sweet, good girl._ He holds down his cup for her to sip from, loving the reddened flush it gives to her lips. When done he gently holds out his own fingers. _Lick._

He is almost in agony from it; Sansa takes each fingertip into her mouth extending the pink pointed tip of her tongue to each fingertip to slowly take it into her, swirling around each so slowly and delicately he is almost ready to spend by the time she moves on to the next. When she is done she looks up to see his pleasure and he sighs. _Very, very good, wolf-girl. So good. So prettily done._ He kisses her on top of the head. _Stay._

He turns to look at her, Sansa composed, kneeling perfectly, blushing, he knows from want. _I’m going to put my girl through her paces tonight. Because I want to._ He smiles pointedly. _I’m going to frighten you my little wolf. I want you._

He grasps her hand. _Will you do this?_ staring into her eyes. Sansa feels like she is falling, his hand the only thing between them.

She thinks of the air the moment before her Lady kissed her the hot sweetness of it, her eyes a green fire with lust and that fire blazing again before the first time Sansa climbed into her bed knowing they would not sleep.

She has never seen wildfire but if it is that beautiful, Sansa Stark would burn cities to the ground.

And it is eyes that same wildfire green that gaze at her now and Sansa’s eye grow wide and her heart beats faster.

_Yes._

Ser Jaime Lannister pulls her to her feet and holds her to him. He opens his mouth, crushing it upon hers like it is a piece of sweet fruit. Twisting he bites the inside of her cheek, sending threads of copper across her tongue. Sansa growls low in her throat as he bites down on her shoulder arching her back in pain as he presses harder, harder into her skin, drunk on her tenderness. 

(Sansa cries out in pain, feeling it mix with the pleasure of his hands on her skin-all she can think of is the sharpness, the way her breasts tingle, losing touch of everything but teeth, skin, scent-feral and lovely.)

He starts to claw at her dress, tearing in open to expose her mother of pearl skin, the soft curves of her breasts. Sansa moans as his hands come onto her shoulders and he is roughly kissing, biting at her neck again. He snarls, rips hard and Sansa’s dress and smallclothes are suddenly gone. She is there small and nude and he is over her, twisting her hair in his hand. _Such a beautiful little wolf_ he growls running his fingernails along her cheek grinding against her fiercely, thrusting at her. 

Sansa’s head is blood and sweetness as she kisses him, biting at his lips _Mmm. wolf-girl has teeth. pretty thing._ Ser Jaime gropes at her breasts, licking sucking, using his teeth to make red petals bloom on her pale skin.

 _I wanted to do this to you the moment I saw you in that dark hall. I wanted you to crawl to me, mark your beautiful skin, drink your sweet tears._ he snarls in her ear as she pants, hungry for him 

He tugs at her hair, wrapping it around his fist. _I wanted to tear your dress open and throw you on the high table and fuck you there, hard and rough and fast in in front of everyone, claim my beautiful wolf girl, wanted no one else but me and my sister to have you. No one else could, not ever._ He is thrusting against her hard and Sansa is pushing back against him, grinding breathing heavily, feeling softer and wetter.

_I wanted to make you low before me and my sister._ His fingers twist sharply. Because you wanted it too. _I saw you looking at her. Looking at me._

Sansa moans out in a high sweet cry, feeling like he has touched a place inside her that she couldn’t name, like her Lady, like everything she thought she was falling away.

Ser pushes her to the floor his skin and hair golden in the candlelight. She starts to her side, showing the curves of her body.  
_That’s right little love, roll over, show me your belly. It’s just what you like. It’s true isn’t it?_ he whispers _you just want to roll over and be sweet for your masters_

The blood in Sansa's body is singing, her breath hoarse, her thighs slick.

He pauses to look at her, spread out before him, marked with his teeth and nails, her legs softly open, her hair wreathing her in flames, her throat and belly so soft and vulnerable exposed to him. Sansa’s breath rises and falls in sharp gasps and he strokes her body, moving his fingers lower, sliding into her slippery cunt where already he can feel a tiny clench on them by the seven, like the way she suckles his fingers. Ser Jaime leans over her, trying to control himself, make it last longer even though he wants to slide into her right now.

His fingers work in her and Sansa cries out harder, _Ser yes, yes it is!_ , weeping as her cunt grows slicker and softer, enough so she can feel it on almost drip like more tears. .Jaime looks in her eyes licking the tears from her cheeks. _Yes. You can cry pretty girl, I’m here. It's all right, I know. Your Ser is here._ He kisses her again scooping her up and moving her over slowly. Sansa feels thick cloth, sees nothing but white like she is surrounded by snow and sighs with delight. 

Ser Jaime smiles lustfully. _You know._ _Yessss._ Sansa sighs wanting to feel it all against her skin, the cloak she has learned to kiss, his and she had known, known it would come her, to this from the moment she rode off with him. Yes. 

_You are perfect._ Ser Jaime sighs. _My wolf girl, so beautiful for me. I want you bound for this_ and his hands are so quick with the cord that it’s done in a moment and then something new. Rope around her ankles, enough to keep her legs open. _Beautiful, so beautiful_ I’m floating Ser she whispers, feeling like she is lifting though she is tied bound on the floor.

 _Good._ he says. _That’s the way it should feel, sweet girl._ His hands rub up and down her body, caressing her thighs, her rounded hips. Ser Jaime takes takins to bite and suck at each one, then sharply biting the nipple. Sansa squeals out from pain and the tingling delight that spreads through her another bite more pain and she cries again. He smiles, cruelly, sweetly. _We’ll do that more. Again and aga,in, because I love the sound you make, so sweet._  
He runs his hand over her belly holding it there for a moment. _Soft_ he murmurs. _You are so lovely on your back._

Ser Jaime reaches over, one hand on her leg, unrolling the bundle he brought with him. Blades. So many bright ones. Ser Jaime selects up one made of dragonglass, the light flickering off each sharp dark edge, like a black jewel. Sansa has never seen anything like it. Ser Jaime growls. _I want you in my claws, wolf-girl._ He presses the flat of the blade against her neck and Sansa melts, it is an old dance she is the prey offering her neck to the hunting beast, the sacrifice. 

_This blade is mine._ he says. My claws. Only mine. Only ever tasted Lannister blood. 

_I want it to taste yours, wolf-girl._ Ser Jaime’s breath is ragged but his hands are sure. Sansa feels the blade against her tracing whorls and spirals over her belly and she keeps melting flowing in and out of her skin as if she can melt into his. _Ahhhhhh Ser._ _You’re flying._ he whispers, _yes._ He can see the thin red lines start to appear as he traces across her breasts, her arms. _Good girl, such a good girl._

Sansa can barely speak as he glides the blade across her thighs, lightly , then harder, enough to leave a scratch, _don’t move_ Serrrr. she purrs. _My wolf-girl likes it. Good._ Ser Jaime sighs tracing the blade along her long, strong legs, then back up, leaving the blade to kiss her, their tongues tangling, teeth nipping at each other.  
_Courage._ Ser Jaime says looking deep into Sansa’s eyes.

 _They say the First Men used to mark warriors_ he murmurs, _for all to see to show who they were. So everyone knew._ Sansa feels the blade against her cheek _like this_ -she feels three quick slashes on one then the other cheek. It is dizzying, she can’t touch him but he’s still all around her and she makes strange sounds she has never made before.

 _My brave girl._ Jaime kisses her slowly, passionately. She sees him move the blade to the light. _For me._

He strokes a light spot above her left breast. _Breathe in_ he says sliding the dragonglass blade along her skin and out. Sansa does and feels a sharp, sweet pain, the smell of blood. _It’s tasted yours_ he whispers. Now I will.He kisses the wound feels her blood on his tongue and kisses her. Sansa can barely breathe from pleasure. it is copper and all his own sweetness and she sighs feeling wetness course down her thighs. She feels open and sweet and dizzied from longing as he pricks his finger, traces her lips with red, pressing to the tip of her tongue. Sansa licks savoring it on her tongue,sucks at his finger feeling like golden sparks going inside her, changing her. you’ve had my blood and your Lady’s--wolf-girl you will never be the same girl again, you're in us, we're in you Ser Jaime sighs.

With a soft guttural cry Sansa moans, feeling him cover it with a kiss, feeling him rub his cock against her again. Sansa lifts her hips rubbing harder, straining to kiss him. _Please Ser please,_ she moans dizzied with sweetness, _please._

 _Wolf-girl what is it you want?_ His breath is heavy, panting, gasping as he struggles, feeling her slickness, drunk on her, her blood and taste in his mouth, reeling from desire.

 _Inside me Ser, pleaseplease, you inside me_. She moans, begging. _fuck me Ser. Yours._

Ser Jaime moans, stroking her hair. _Yes my little love, yes._ There is a quick slice and the rope on her legs falls away. He drops his head to lick and kiss at her pearl tonguing and nibbling like a starving man at her petals, her cunt. Sansa has never felt like this, has never known want like this, rocking her hips back and forth dizzied and hot begging for her Ser inside her. She moans and cries as he licks lifting her hips up and down, grinding against his lips.  
He comes up to kiss her as she tastes herself on his tongue, sucking slightly on his tongue. Ser Jaime won’t wait a second more. 

_Open your legs,_ he growls _let me in_ and she doesn’t need to be to lift her hips as he slides in, hard and fast, sinking into her as she howls in bliss.

Ser Jaime groans in pleasure buried to the hilt inside her. _Wolf-girl_ he moans _oh wolf-girl, mine_ holding Sansa tightly, tasting her, their mixed blood. She kisses him deeply drawing back for a breath _oh Ser Ser yours._ crying out again as she clenches as she’s been taught and he rubs against her pushing against her pearl, keeping her slick for him. Sansa cries out as her body shakes, wordlessly shuddering against him.

 _yes wolf-girl as many times as you want yes_ Ser Jaime gasps out as she meets each of his thrusts with her hips newly, but her body knows what to do. Sansa cries out again, wanting to pull him to her harder but her bound hands can't grab. _Tighter Ser, hold me tighter please. Hard._

Ser Jaime holds her to him and as her legs wrap around his hips he presses his lips to hers, feeling her shake twice more. He presses into her, matching her cries with harder deeper thrusts as her legs tighten around him, hips rocking.He looks into her eyes and she looks into his, falling, falling into deep pools of green and gold feeling him deep inside her warm and sweet. He can’t do anything but fuck her then, growling wordlessly  
his sweet girl in his claws, thrusting harder and harder _my wolf-girl_ he snarls, _mine_  
As he claws down her back and she cries _yours Ser yours_ that he roars, biting into her soft flesh as he finally spends inside her. Ser Jaime rests on her breast, reaching up to stroke her hair as he holds her feeling her breath rise and fall as she shivers one, two more times,making little sweet moans, feeling more of her wetness trickle down her thighs. Her eyes finally close, long lashes fluttering her breath and Ser Jaime smiles.

 _Happy, little wolf?_ he whispers. _Oh yes Ser yes_ she says as he rubs his head against hers, nuzzling. _so good_ he murmurs. _I’m very happy, little love. Very, very happy. More than so so good, wolf-girl._ He sighs fingering her chain, linking a finger under it and tugging. _Sansa._ They kiss again Sansa’s sighs against his skin sweet.

He strokes her face (he did well with the blade, not a scratch), admiring the red beauty on her body, the only blood the tiny bit above her right breast. _Mmmm_. he murmurs, his hands stroking her face and hair. _Missed a spot._ Sansa grins. _Can’t leave you decorated on one side and not the other._ He sits up, takes his dagger. _Don’t move._ he warns, winking. _Or we’ll never, ever do this again._  
Ser Jaime growls low and sweet in his throat as above her right breast he scratches S.J.L. Sheathing the dagger, he smiles. _Perfect._  
Sansa wriggles her fingers which he catches in his eye.Ah. Hold still my lady. He cuts her hands free rubbing them softly between his. With candles burning low, Sansa lies back, replete, the light catching her hair, turning strands into strings of garnet, eyes sparkling, sweet smile, her gold chain warm against her, white skin bloomed red and white like spring blossoms with marks and bites.

Ser Jaime thinks she has never looked more beautiful. _Sit up, wolf-girl. Let me help you._ She sits with her knees drawn up smiling her eyes following her Ser like a flame. As he sits up, he picks up the edges of the cloak and wraps them around her,wrapping her in white. softly and warmly, kissing her tenderly on the lips. _Beautiful._

He looks, smiling eyes twinkling at her hair like fire against the white of his cloak, tiny stars of red dotting it. _Well. You must be under my protection, little wolf._ Ser Jaime rubs his head against hers.

She looks dizzily and sweetly at him. _Did you forget? Is it a mistake?_

He strokes her hair. _I’m the one who wrapped you, my little love._

She rests her head on his knee as he strokes her hair, soft and quiet, both breathing together, her fingers combing at his hair, softly, eyes dewy and soft. Ser Jaime remembers. _Drink this._ holding it to her lips. _It’s a litttle bitter, honey in it. I heard that made it taste better._ Ser Jaime whispers. _All of it. Good girl._

_He pours clear liquid onto a cloth, dabs on her cuts. Sansa makes a face. _Stings__  
(Ser Jaime turns his head to the side so as not to chuckle; _pierced and cut and tied and she hates this_ ). He kisses her forehead.  
_Better_? _Yes_

__He reaches for water. _Drink. You’ll be thirsty._ Sansa drains the goblet of water and he pours her more. _Good. Now you need somethng else._ __

_Ser Jaime sits by his wolf-girl and feeds her almonds one by one, an apricot, more almonds, water. _Well done._ he says. _Close your eyes._ Open. Sansa opens her mouth, tastes a sweet sharpness, falling back to sweet along her tongue. _Lemon cake_ she murmurs. _How did you know?__

__Don’t talk with your mouth full, wolf-girl. Manners._ Ser Jaime smiles, feeds her the rest, bit by bit, stroking her. _Sweet girl, sweet cub, my little wolf.__

__I have to ask you something_ he murmurs, kissing along her brow. _Would you like to be my own wolf-girl?_ Sansa, smiles happily then looks puzzled. _How? Have I...done something wrong? Is my Lady... does she..?_ She looks sad and afraid and Ser Jaime wraps his arms around her._  
> _No sweet girl. You’ve done beautifully-better than we could have hoped._ Ser Jaime looks into her eyes, seeing them sparkle as she starts to think. _We have spoken-you are still your Lady’s._

_Then hooking a finger under her chain, tugging softly he says, _You’d also be mine. My wolf-girl__.  
_Oh..Oh!._ Sansa’s smile slowly starts to form. _Both of yours._  
_Yes wolf-girl. If you wish it._ Even though he thinks he knows, Ser Jaime is nervous.  
Sansa looks up at him smiling brilliantly. _Yes. Yes Ser, I'd love that_. then snuggles into his arms reaching up to kiss him. He puts a finger to her lips. _There are still rules of course. Some things will be difficult. You’ll learn things your Lady wants. You'll learn things I want. But you're a clever girl. Fortunately, my dear beloved sister has learned to share some of her things._ He grins wickedly. It may have been a few weeks ago. Don’t tell anyone or I'll have to punish you. He winks.

_Sansa laughs, like little silver bells. _I won’t._  
_Good._ Ser Jaime says. kissing her softly, their tongues tangling, her hands in his spun gold hair. It’s easy then for him to lift her up and slip her into his bed, untangling her from his cloak tucking her between his sheets, wrapping himself around her. strong arms over her. He kisses the top of her head, mumbling. Sansa starts. _oh?_ _Dresses_. Ser Jaime murmurs. _Need some for you. Think you need more now, tonight’s is all gone too._ He breathes in her scent, rubbing his cheek against her hair. _I like you as you are right now wolf-girl._ _Like you like now too,_ Ser. Sansa murmurs and turns to his chest breathing softly, snuggling up against him already asleep._ They dream, the wolf tenderly curled beside the lion, wrapped in darkness, safe from harm. 


	18. Morning Dove III (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wakes happy.  
> Ser Jaime performs an unexpected task.  
> A mysterious appointment.

Sansa wakes, feeling deliciously sore and very warm. Opening her eyes, she sees Ser’s arms around her and nuzzles her face against his chest in pleasure. She loves his scent of honey and spices breathes in deeply, dizzily happy. She can’t resist giving his chest a lick, desperately wanting a taste.

His arms tighten around you. _Wolf-girl, if you are trying to wake me, the Keep had better be under siege or burning down right now_ his words rumbling in his chest. She feels him rub against her. _I’d have to make you pay for that_. Sansa rubs back. _Aren’t you a squirmy girl today?_ Ser Jaime growls at her. If you keep it up, I may have to chain you to my bed if I want you to keep me warm, little cub. He nips at her ear. Or I’ll put you at the foot of it in a bundle of my dirty clothes. Sansa blushes deep red/She turns and catches his eyes, made bright jade by the morning sunlight, his golden hair shining, his skin half glowing.He smiles widely, fiercely. Is that what you want for tonight, wolf-girl? Sansa shakes her head no! as he continues, holding her tighter.Of course, you’d have them half soaked after an hour...poor little thing. He starts scratching at her neck, and Sansa reaches up to meet them, wanting more as he claws harder, feeling him rub his cock against her rear, which she rubs harder. Ser Jaime, still holding her with one arm (which Sansa notices with a fluttering pleasure is strong enough that she can’t escape.)

 _Oh, is *that* what you want?_ He rubs harder, growling lower in his throat. _Slutty little wolf-one time and you’re begging for my cock like an alley whore._

 _You know exactly what they do. And you like it._ Sansa shivers with delight murmuring Ser as she feels his hands on her shoulders sliding her down into the bed. _You have it-but you have it my way._ He whispers, purring in her ear. _And I want it just like this._

 _And wolf-girl? Come up here before you swallow. I want to see how much you like it._ Ser Jaime smiles sharply as her clever hands start stroking at his thighs, wrapping around his hips. He has already been hard and the touch of her mouth at his cock makes him groan with pleasure.

Sansa starts to breathe through her nose as she licks his cock up and down, her tongue lingering on the most sensitive places. making sure to cover her teeth with her lips so that her Ser has a soft slick place without a scratch. She hears him sigh happily, his hips starting to thrust into her mouth harder and sweeter _that’s right my little love let me fuck your pretty mouth-just as lovely as your sweet cunt._ Sansa moans in her throat her sounds blocked, but he can hear enough for a wicked smile. _Good girl. Very good._

Sansa starts to scratch along his lower back as she sucks, sliding her mouth up and down. _Harder, little cub, harder. Show me those pretty claws._

Ser Jaime can’t help it, but raises himself briefly to look at Sansa's wine-red hair spread over his thighs. _Ahhhh._ He growls harder as she scratches, liking the sweetness of her little nails on his skin. _Don’t you look pretty just like this._ He puts his hands on her head, controlling the way he slips in and out of her mouth. Sansa moans around his cock, licking faster, grabbing on to his hips, taking him even as he thrusts harder into her mouth (oh my little love, you’ll take me in every place in your body, all mine, I’ll make you drip) and he can’t help it but comes hard, hands pulling at her hair. He lies back shuddering with delight. _Good girl, so good._ He smiles wickedly. Before you come up clean me up. He can already see Sansa’s face, utterly confused since she can’t swallow.

_Yes, wolf-girl. Wipe me off in your pretty hair. That’s right._

Sansa shivers inside, her eyes wide and nervous. Ser Jaime nods yes enjoying her little shake as she tries to be calm. _Go on._

_I know you can._

Sansa does and Ser Jaime enjoys the sight of her hair tumbled over his groin, a bolt of red silk bright, sweet, soft against him.  
_Come up girl. Open._  
Sasa rises from the sheets, her hair tousled and her face reddened.

 _Very good, wolf bitch. Stick out your tongue so I can see._ Slowly, she does.He smiles wickedly. _Now you can swallow. Come here, little love._ Ser Jaime takes the shivering Sansa into his arms stroking her back and shoulders, holding her against him till she relaxes and smiles up at him.

_Very good. You have made me very happy. Perhaps I can give you a little treat._

His clever fingers slip inside Sansa as she squeezes at them. Her sounds are soft yelps of pleasure and Ser Jaime knows she is so,so close.  
_No you may not._  
Sansa’s face falls and she bites her lip. Ser Jaime tries very hard not to smile at his undoubtedly frustrated girl. His fingers start to work at her pearl as he presses against her, making sure to rub his body against hers. Sansa keeps biting her lip hard, squirming. Ser Jaime moves his fingers lightly around her pearl, which he knows will make her scream out and melt. _Oh it’s so much fun to watch you struggle, little wolf_ He laughs watching, her writhe and slides his fingers back in her.

(Sansa is trying very hard to think about the dullest things she can-back stitches, wool, rocks, anything to hold back.) She yowls, to her last edge, one more stroke and with relief feels him withdraw his fingers. He reaches at her, wipes them across her lips and face. _Lick_ , he whispers looking into her eyes Sansa’s face is bright red but she licks her lips and doesn’t need to be told to lick his fingers clean. _Good. How pretty._ He kisses her on the forehead sliding his lips to meet hers and it is a sweet kiss. Sansa melts into it wrapping her arms around his neck and her lion breaks the kiss to rub against her head, nuzzling. Sansa does back, inhaling his spices and honey, warm dark sweat, the soft scent of his hair, rubbing her hand on the back of his neck at the short place she loves so much. Ser Jaime purrs, nuzzling lower into her chest. _Sweet girl._

He stretches long and slow, golden and sinuous in the morning light, body rising up to meet the sun. Sansa is dazzled at the sight-this almost unearthly beauty. _Well, little cub. You’d best get up and wash and dress.As should I._

__We have an appointment at noon._ _

_Ser Jaime enjoys Sansa’s look of alarm and pleasure, seeing where the sun is the sky. _Well, scamper, wolf-girl. I’ll meet you in your Lady’s rooms._ Ser Jaime smiles, stroking her cheek. _And I’d suggest you take extra care to be pretty; I want my wolf-girl at her loveliest when she is with me.__

_Sansa speaks mournfully, though trying to hide the sparkle in her eyes _Ser, I don’t seem to have a dress anymore. I think you may need to assist me.__

_He groans. _Oh seven bloody hells. If anyone asks, say nothing and let me answer. _Ser Jaime makes surprisingly petulant noises while dressing. Sansa tries hard not to giggle and remains solemn as he throws one of his shirts onto her, wrapping her in a spare cloak.___

___Sansa arrives at her Lady’s chambers in her Ser’s arms and he tosses her down on the bed, rumpling her hair, retrieving his coat. He sighs happily putting it on. _I can smell you on it wolf-girl._ He kisses her long and slowly on her lips, two fingers tugging at her chain._ _ _

____Now you can dress and make yourself pretty. You may wish to hurry._ Ser Jaime grins hungrily at her. _No smallclothes-and I’d not get too excited if I were you._ He grins, kisses her quickly on the lips and saunters down the hall._ _ _

___Sansa starts cleaning and brushing, finding a clean dress (slate, with a bit of blue cord at the wide sleeves and at the high neck which hides her chain. ) She looks at herself in the mirror and sighs, quickly dabbing powder at her hair, combing it till it shines, Sansa takes a moment to rub her cheek against her Lady’s pillow. Sansa breathes deep, inhales the lavender of her perfume, under that the spiciness that she and her brother share, but different, a bit sharper and sweeter._ _ _

___She slips on a pair of shoes and walks slowly, peacefully to the room where Ser has told her to meet him._ _ _

___Sansa thinks it will be an interesting day.  
Smiling softly she allows herself to skip for a few steps, then moves slowly like a lady along the corridor._ _ _


	19. Interlude: Garden Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet rural activites. Very sweet.

Cersei’s smile feels like rigor mortis.The rose garden is agonizingly precious, although she could think of a few splendid uses for a thorny vine on soft pale skin, which at least softens the corners of her smile. Perhaps she will bring an extra surprise for her little dove-whipping her with it would be quite delicious and she is so very pretty when she cries and begs...

 _...and Your Grace, we’re just delighted that you could come and be with us on this beautiful day for our little sisterhood!_ Highgarden’s little rosebud herself, in the most darling of seafoam dresses beams at her while her ladies flutter their lashes and smile. They are in soft spring shades-dusty rose, pale blue, cream, peach and of course seafoam. Cersei, resplendent in her red and gold wishes she were a flame to burn this garden to the earth. _We all make treats to share, such fun and it’s lovely. Do you bake, your Grace?_

Eight pairs of eyes look at her expectantly, waiting to hear about honey cake. Cersei grits her teeth. _I prefer the needle to the kitchen. __How sweet!_ , the princess smiles, her eyes just.so.wholesome. Cersei artfully dodges a handclasp while noticing that several of the young ladies are holding hands, tenderly touching fingers, leaving cheek kisses just a speck too long for propriety. _ _

__While she contemplates freshening up the bite marks on her own sweet girl’s thigh, Cersei comforts herself with that while lions do not concern themselves with sheep, they are certainly never mistaken for roses._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: Full chapter is coming:)


	20. Reflected (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa visits a new room.  
> Visitors.  
> Ser Jaime admires.

Sansa taps softly on the door and opens; clearly stately guest quarters, draped in red, with a full mirror. Sansa’s eyes widen at the extravagance of the mirror; it is rare that she sees herself tip to toe. She sees a raised box on the floor in front of the mirror and is puzzled-she can’t start to guess what this is.

Ser Jaime gets up from the chair, catching Sansa around the waist. _Vain little wolf-girl- What am I to do with you?_ He catches Sansa’s hands behind her back and presses himself to her. _This will do. For now._ He grinds against her gnawing lightly at her neck, Sansa slowly starting to melt again. 

_Kneel until our guest arrives._

Sansa is embarrassed, but kneels as her Ser demands, on the box, facing the mirror. _Keep still_ Ser Jaime warns her. _Or you’ll be kneeling on my floor with two books on your head tonight-while I tend to myself._ His tongue flicks in her ear, his breath hot on her skin.. Sansa struggles not to move but keeps her position. _I don’t think you’d like that, little one._

He smiles sharply. _Don’t move._ Ser Jaime deftly reaches under her gown, softly rubs her thigh and then pinches hard enough to leave a bruise. Sansa works so hard to keep her breath under control and her body still she holds her breath for an instant. _Good girl,_ he whispers _no smallclothes, just as I told you-but oh dear. It looks like you’re excited after all. I guess you’ll have to live with it-I did warn you._ He kisses the back of her neck leaving little flicks of tongue and teeth. Very good. He smiles. _We’ll get you perfect posture yet, though I think rope might be in order._ He bites at her lip and Sansa tries hard to be silent even though her Ser’s tongue is driving her close to frenzy.

There’s a knock on the door. _Up_. Ser Jaime commands.. Sansa stands unsure what to prepare for.

It’s a small man with a case, two others carrying bolts of cloth. 

_Welcome gentlemen._ Ser Jaime smiles affably, his smile the picture of charm. _My lady requires tailoring assistance._ Sansa smiles sweetly, feeling a little flutter in her stomach-the colors are so beautiful and rich, violet, silver, brilliant blue like a butterfly’s wing-and then she sees the reds and golds-so rich and lovely that they take her breath away-silk and brocade and stiff lace. She feels strange at all these colors-it almost seems too much for her to bear, all this loveliness-but she wants to roll into the reds and golds, wrap herself up.

Ser Jaime grins at her pleasure. ( _it’s time you dressed like a woman_ he thinks, thinking of the radiant beauty the wolf-girl will be dressed thus and is suddenly deliciously hard thinking of her in a new fine dress with her tongue on his boots. )

_I want the fit perfect so as to make her the most beautiful. She is quite a treasure. Isn’t she?_

Sansa notices he is showing her off, like a prized hound, a falcon, a jewel. She stays composed with a lovely smile but shivers with delight inside

With a sharp green glance he fixes her in the eye. _Do strip for the kind tailor, won’t you, my lady?_

 _Oh that really won’t be necessary._ the tailor murmurs, though his eyes and his assistants are bright, curious. _They're excited_ Sansa thinks and is flushed. Her pale skin reddens as if she has drunk from a deep cup of wine.

Ser Jaime looks directly at Sansa, eyes roving up and down till she trembles on the inside.  
_Oh no, I insist_.  
_Sansa_.

Sansa slowly strips off her slate gown until she is only clad in her soft leather slippers. Her face is a brilliant red, her chest rising and falling , completely exposed. She gazes ahead but can tell they are all staring at her, wanting her. Ser’s initials over her breast seem to blaze brighter than she ever dreamed possible.

 _They know._ she thinks. _they know what Ser and I do. Ser likes showing me to them because I belong to him._ While she has tapes wrapped around her, arms waist, shoulders, back she sees Ser Jaime watching, his legs elegantly stretched out on a footstool watching her and then she blushes deeply, feeling a soft trickle between her legs.

Her hips again please-she must look exquisite. Ser Jaime smiles, watching Sansa shudder as the tailor wraps the tape again. Sansa is so afraid that the tailor will notice the wetness between her thighs that she shivers and tries to keep to keep her eyes straight ahead even when she notices lustful glances from the other men.

Ser Jaime enjoys watching her shiver, thinking _Oh, I bet you’ve never been fitted like this. Certainly with nothing as beautiful_ Ser wants to make her gasp from beauty and splendor as well as anything-it is a delight to see his little wolf-girl undone from loveliness as well. _And wolf-girl you are our treasure as -we will have our jewel in the setting she deserves, won’t we? My beloved sister will be so delighted. So am I._ He sighs with delight at Cersei’s pleasure to come, enjoying Sansa’s blushes down and around her body, flushing her skin, marking her cuts. Then the intitials over her breast-delicious he thinks and has to shift in his seat to hide his own pleasure.

Ser Jaime stands, pointing at bolts of cloth-that, that, that, then pauses slowly over the reds and golds. _Yes, these. Each._ While Sansa stands still and nude, he shows the tailor notes, sketches, numbers. These necklines. Fur trim here. And smallclothes he says. _Silk. All of them._

Sansa feels her heart thump. No one she has ever known had this, ever. She feels a flutter in her chest _no one dresses someone like this unless they want them to stay. Or unless they want to display them._ She both but she likes the thought of Ser displaying her even more than she thought and makes sure her posture is lovely even now. 

They all confer; the tailors and assistants leave, with a polite _Ser, my lady._ Ser then wraps her in his coat, grinning. _Very pretty. I noticed you kept your posture-you’ve been listening. I think you’ve earned a treat. Yes Ser_ she whispers. _I liked them knowing I am yours. Very much._

 _Aren’t you a naughty one, little wolf?_ Ser Jaime tightens his hold on her hair, her smelling the scent of his leather gloves, his skin, dizzying. _And did you forget your manners, little one?_ He scruffs her neck with his other hand enjoying her squirm. _No Ser!_ Sansa squeaks as his hand pulls at her, twisting her back to him. _Thank you, Ser, thank you._ And she does smile, trembling, happy, longing for him.

My beloved sister will expect gratitude from you as well. If she’s like me, you may be on your knees for days.You've got such a sweet little tongue He growls wickedly, pulling her to him, caressing her breasts. _Rub._ Sansa presses herself against him, loving the feel of the leather against her skin, him pressing already hard. When he breaks and lets go, he grins again.

 _It seems you don’t have anything fitting to be seen in right now. Perhaps I’ll have to keep you chained up naked in my room until your Lady returns._ He claws at her back and Sansa trembles. _I could find that a very acceptable arrangement, little wolf-having my sweet girl ready to crawl to me and lick whatever I wish her to_ He snarls pulling her closer. _Because you may look like a lady, but I know you like cleaning my boots with your tongue and my seed on you and in you,don’t you little slut? The prettiest dress in all of the Seven Kingdoms can’t hide that._ He kisses her hard, biting at her lips again. _My sweet little whore. Off with my coat._ Sansa slips it slowly off her shoulders. _Quicker._ Ser Jaime stands. _Don’t move, wolf-girl._ He pushes the box to the side, his breath as ragged as Sansa’s. He pulls her to the front of the mirror, her milky white body pressed against him as he bites at her shoulder, snarling and golden, then lifts her head baring her white neck.

Sansa feels his gloved hand pressing at her throat. _Well. Isn’t that pretty._ Ser Jaime growls. Sansa shivers and moans, writhing at him, wanting to grab her tighter. He whispers into her ear. So you like my hand on your throat, litte wolf-bitch. He pushes her down to her knees. 

_Look at yourself- my little cub dripping, shameless, my hand on your throat.Mine._ He purrs. _And you like it._ He snarls. _Hands and knees. I want you to see yourself._ Ser Jaime chuckles, thumb and fingers working her pearl .  
_While I fuck you like the little beast you are._

He slides two fingers in right away; Sansa is so slippery he gasps, already thinking of that soft slick beauty around his cock. _Eyes open wolf-bitch. I want you to see this_. He wraps her hair around his hand and slides in hard. He feels Sansa growl and moan, purring _Serrrr_ at each thrust. Ser Jaime tugs her hair harder _My good bitch. Take it like I want you to._  
He feels her squeeze, her cunt tightening around him. 

Sansa sees her face in the mirror, eyes dilated black from pleasure, soft red curls plastered to her forehead with sweat, cheeks cherry-bright-above her Ser Jaime. pushing into her dropping her hair to grab on to her hips, golden and dangerous taking me as he wishes and Sansa suddenly cries out. _Good girl he snarls at her-nothing like my sweet wolf-bitch’s cunt. So very sweet._ Three sudden sharp thrusts and Sansa shakes harder. _Yes._  
.  
Ser is enjoying the way Sansa becomes enthralled with her reflection--seeing herself undone by him fucking her. Beautiful he whispers in her ear. Come for me my little slut, my little wolf-bitch, yes come for me., thrusting quicker and harder as she groans, thrusting back, crying out sweetly.

Sansa colllapses shaking onto the floor and in the moments that follow, so does he, spilling himself into her. Both of them lie together spent, his leg thrown over her, his face nuzzling her hair, his head rubbing against hers. You can’t wear me out yet, my little one. I have plans. Sansa smiles wickedly. _Plans, Ser?_ fluttering her long lashes in that innocent way that makes Ser Jaime want to fuck her till she screams. That will wait.

He reaches into his bag for a small towel, gently wiping her dry. _Mmm._ he murmurs. _So much for such a little creature._ Sansa blushes again and he chuckles. _I know you like it, naughty girl._ Ser Jaime reaches behind his chair and pulls out a fabric-wrapped bundle.

 _Open it,_ he says, smiling. Sansa’s fingers are trembling so Ser Jaime has to help, gently unknotting with his until it rolls open. 

_Ser Jaime couldn’t have hoped for better_. Sansa’s mouth is open wide, her fingers stroking the red brocade, the tiny gold beadwork around the neckline, the wide bells of sleeves embroidered with gold thread and garnets. Sansa starts to cry and Ser Jaime rushes to her to wrap his arm around her. It’s the most beautiful-the loveliest-

 _I thought you might want something to wear while you are waiting. My dear sister and I planned it for you. I am guessing you're pleased_ Ser Jaime smiles widely again, watching her fingers trace the red-on-red swirls of brocade with eyes bright with wonder.

 _Wolf-girl, you must put that on. Otherwise you’ll catch gold-and I’d rather be putting things besides broth between your pretty lips._ Ser Jaime rubs his head against hers gently.

 _Yes Ser, I will._ Sansa almost trips over a fold in her excitement.

_Ser?_

_Yes, wolf-girl?_

_Ser, will you please turn your back for a moment? So I can dress?_

_Of course._

Ser Jaime uses every bit of courtliness he has in standing facing the door, though he desperately wants to turn and gaze on her. He notes that it is almost completely gone when she speaks.  
_Ser. If it please you, you can turn, Ser._  
Sansa’s voice is still quavering just the tiniest bit and Ser Jaime turns to look at her.

His little wolf is a vision-the gown makes her glow like a pearl, the red luminous and warm against her hair, the beadwork sparkling, the neckline revealing her chain perfectly with just a peep of scratches, which he likes. Ser Jaime comes close, hooks two fingers under her chain. _You are beautiful._ he whispers to her softly kissing her ear and holding her hand. _You always are, but you are magnificent._ Ser Jaime kisses her slowly and tenderly, stroking her hair, loving the feel of her long fingers tangled in his golden hair, her rubbing the soft, short part that he knows she loves to touch. He pulls back to look at her. I’ve dreamed of seeing you in red and gold-and you are even more precious than I had dreamed. Sansa’s eyes are brimful with tears and smiles and he doesn’t mind at all that she breaks her protocol, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply and sweetly. _Thank you Ser,_ she murmurs _thank you.?_

_He brushes a tangled piece of hair from her face.You are most welcome. _Your smile is the sweetest thanks._ He grins. _Though I do expect you to continue to mind your manners of course, wolf-girl-and be properly grateful_ Sansa's grin sparkles._

_Ser Jaime leans over to growl at her, nipping at her cheek. _And there are so many lovely ways to thank me back at my quarters-I can't decide._ He hums softly. _It seems you'll be in for a busy night._ Picking up the bag, he offers her his arm, which she takes, softly, then more firmly, stronger. He looks at her, emerald eyes gleaming. _Besides I have not yet seen how pretty that skirt is flipped up-you do understand I must ensure we have our money’s worth._ He smiles wickedly and she strokes his arm as the door closes behind them. Her soft laughter rings in the empty room even after they are gone._


	21. Interlude: Inquiries and Things To Come

_I am delighted to hear of how well our little prodigy has taken to dance. I look forward to examining her form, steps and grace upon my return. Since you have shown such an interest, I would also suggest extra focus on decorum, deportment and beauty which undoubtedly she will take to just as she has with her attention to her dance lessons. Ladylike ways can only make her more delightful and since you have an eye for detail, I am certain working with you can only increase her skills._

_I would be indebted to you for your assistance. I trust she is not neglecting her song-I will be drilling her firmly on it when I return since even the sweetest bird requires chirps and trills before its song can be rich and sweet. I certainly will require your assistance and am pleased to have your firm hand keeping her in sharp mind and sweet spirits. She will of course have time with her dear dancing master._

_I have been away for too long; I will welcome time with our pupil and look forward to pedagogical discussions in your charming company._

_NB: Please expect a few tokens for our mutual pupil and for yourself-I hope they can pass some time. I long for King’s Landing._


	22. Deep Waters (SerxCub, Lady)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses.  
> The pleasures of water.  
> Ser Jaime makes hints.

.Sansa has been asleep on the floor next to Ser’s boots; her red hair is spread out over a large cushion, skirt flipped to the knee and one leg thrown over as if she is cuddling it. Ser Jaime Lannister takes a moment to look at her, leaving the leash balanced on his leg so as not to wake her and makes a note to tease her because he knows full well what happens when she throws her leg over pillows.

He reaches down to stroke her cheek, brushing the damp rosy curls from her face softly with the tip of his gloved hand, the spice and sand of the leather brushing against the soft flush of her cheeks. She smiles. _Chasing rabbits, wolf-girl?_ Ser Jaime thinks looking at her closed eyes as she dreams, remembering he’d be much more pleased to chase his little cub.

She turns over to settle onto her back and he can’t resist it but starts stroking her belly through her dress. _Good girl, good girl_ he thinks, delighted by the way she does roll over for him-a delicious little thing, a sign of surrender that is luscious, sweet and maddening

Her eyes flutter open and her pink lips break into a smile. _Hello Ser._

 _Hello, wolf-girl. You smiled when you were asleep-sweet dreams?.I hope I was in them_ . He rubs her belly, scratching lightly. _I had a delightful one watching you..._

There’s the spark in her eyes which he loves. _Oh, little wolf, do you want to play?_ Ser Jaime grabs her leash tugs it softly to pull her to him. _Kiss-then we’ll play._ The first syllable isn't out of his mouth before Sansa’s lips are pressed to the tanned leather of his boot first soft kisses then harder licks, her tongue moving in tiny circles. Ser Jaime leans back to enjoy it, watching her wrap her arms behind them as she knows he likes. _Mmmm. Such a beautiful lady he growls who loves the taste of her lord’s boots._ He hears a muffled sigh and then more kisses soft along the instep, I’d tell you to rub yourself against them like a good little bitch--but I don’t want them sticky right now, sweet little cub. He smiles watching her squirm, rubbing her pale face against his calf before licking and kissing down the back. Sansa is breathing heavily between each taste as is he. _Very good. On your stomach._

He can tell she’s puzzled but is delighted with how quickly she obeys. Ser Jaime cannot resist, puts his feet on her back, crossing them at the ankle, enjoying the way they look resting atop her red gown. Sansa breathes deeply and softly in pleasure. _Good girl. Very good girl. Ypu are the loveliest footrest I have ever had._ He feels a slight shudder but she remains still. _Mmm. Well done wolf-girl. Up._    
Sansa is kneeling by his chair in moments, gently rubbing her head against the gloved hand that holds her leash. He strokes her hair, the garnet locks falling over his hands bright as fire.

 _Your Lady has written._ Ser Jaime speaks softly so that Sansa needs to perk up her ears. _She misses us and hopes you are well and being well-behaved for me. He looks into her eyes, his green eyes sparkling. _I’ll of course have to wait for later to report-to be sure. You’d best be good, little cub._  
_She requested something of you._ Sansa looks up at Ser Jaime suddenly puzzled and curious. _She wishes you to show me how you care for her at certain times._ Sansa looks worried. _You will not be betraying a confidence and I will never ask that of you. She is concerned for my well-being and hopes that you can help bring me some pleasure to ease any pains I may have-as you do for her._ He stands. _Go. I’ll see you in a moment, wolf-girl.__

_Sansa arrives first with a basket; the tub has already been filled with hot water. It is rougher, not as pretty as her Lady’s but deep-and the door closes and locks. Sansa massages her fingers, stretching them, making them comfortable. Her heart is pounding-this is somehow very different from everything else. There is a tap on the door, Ser Jaime comes in and Sansa locks the door._

_Ser Jaime undresses. When he is done and Sansa has folded his clothes, she takes him by the arm, aiding him up the half steps into the water. The candlelight ripples across his skin and the water, spilling both with coins of light, catching the gold of his hair, the green of his eyes, the curves of all the things Sansa loves; arms, hips, curves of muscles, face, legs, hands-looking at him she finds him beautiful and has a soft smile._

__Well, wolf-girl, I do remember something is supposed to happen. Are you struck dumb by my beauty?_ He grins, looking warmly at her. Sansa smiles, the light catching her hair. _Excuse me Ser._ She slips off her light gown and Ser Jaime is now struck dumb; her hair is luminous red tipped with the gold of candlelight, softly rounded breasts, long elegant legs and he cannot help but admire. _Ahh_ he murmurs looking at her. Sansa takes a jug of water and as Ser Jaime relaxes in the water, wets herself and her hair. _Fascinating_ Ser Jaime thinks watching the water drizzle down her curves , enjoying the pleasure of seeing her wet. She then takes the sage and honey soap and taking a moment as if trying to remember the steps of a dance, rubs it along her body and then into her wet hair. _Clever, clever dear sister_ Ser Jaime thinks enjoying watching Sansa blush as she soaps herself._

__Don’t you look luscious wolf-girl-I can see why your Lady likes this so much.-and I’ve heard more besides._ Sansa blushes harder and stands on the step. _By your leave Ser.__

__Of course._ Ser Jaime takes her hand to help her into the tub, watching the candlelight catch on the gold chain around her neck. _Do show me -I’ve been so curious-and my dear sister holds onto her secrets so tightly.__

_His words are suddenly hushed by Sansa’s soft press against his body, small but strong hands on his shoulders as she cleans him with her body softly rubbing against him till the air is heady with the scent of sage and and honey. _Such a good girl._ he murmurs, reaching to touch her. Then as she’s pressing against him she slips round to his front, her hair drifting behind her like a mermaid’s. She takes it in her hands and rubs him with it, gently scrubbing at his chest and arms, her legs wrapped around his hips._

_Sansa thrills to this; it is so different. The scents (her Lady prefers lavender) the intensity of her body rubbing against her Ser’s the sheer delight of warm water and the intense deep tenderness she feels when she uses her hair to wash her Lady, as she’s been shown and as she loves to do now, sharing it with her Ser. She runs her cheek and her hair over her Ser’s shoulders, running her cheek along each arm rubbing and cleaning tenderly, still feeling herself grow hot and wet, so hot inside. Her nipples are already hard from rubbing against him, the sweet sliding up and down cleaning him with her own skin and hair. Ser Jaime groans in delight._

__Oh my little cub, that’s wonderful.  
_(Clever Cersei, love-I knew you’d find a delicious way to use her-scrubbing with her hair? Too sweet...)_  
She washes his hair with sage and honey soap, rinsing it with water then cool chamomile tea, then running her fingers through his damp golden hair, rubbing at his scalp in little circles, her slippery breasts and body pressing at him. Sansa tries to be calm but has to breathe in soft sighs to try and contain her excitement, the loveliness of touching his body like this. She slides behind him, rewrapping her legs and reaches a vial of oil . Rubbing it into her hands she begins to work at his shoulders, the back of his neck, leaving kisses, then rubbing slowly again and again till she can feel him purring.

Ser Jaime leans back into her fingers, enjoying her legs locked around him her fingers and body making his whole skin tingle, feeling himself burning with desire, trying not to simply turn and t _ake her but to enjoy her softness and now her lips--she’s kissing and nipping at the back of his neck and he growls low in his throat and he can’t. He grabs at her. You are in danger my little cub._ he snarls wrapping his fist into her hair. _Why, Ser?_ She says her breath shivery with delight. 

_Because I want you wolf-girl. I want your sweet cunt all around me right now. And I know you’ll open up and give it to me right now, my darling little wolf-bitch_ He pulls her forward, reaching for the oil, rubbing it onto his fingers slipping them into her as she gasps. _That’s my sweet bitch. Open up._ His fingers are thrusting harder Sansa rocking forward into them her breath panting . 

_So you want it that badly. Good._ He slips in another finger. Sansa moans. _Wrap your legs around me my sweet cub, my pretty little whore._ Sansa does, Ser Jaime pushing her hand down. _Slide onto me wolf-girl. I don’t want to do any extra work. After all, you’re tending to me._ He smiles brightly and sharply as Sansa struggles. 

_Well, if you can’t do it, I’ll have to do for myself._ His eyes glitter wickedly. _That would make you very unhappy wouldn’t it?_ He strokes her hair. _My poor little wolf, unable to fill her pretty cunt, so wet, wailing for it-ah, there you are. Good, good girl._ He sighs in pleasure, loving the feel of her cunt wrapped around him, putting his hands on her hips.

Sansa is dizzied-she never really thought this possible but she is wrapped around her Ser, feeling him inside her while sitting. _Up and down my love, just like that little wolf-bitch. It won’t do to have your Ser tired out._ He sighs in bliss, feeling her grab at him, her tight little muscles gripping him maddenly.

He bites at her earlobe, licking at her, _besides I know you’d slide up and down on anything to feel the tiniest bit better._ He grabs her hips harder _(and she’ll hae bruises there he’ll have to kiss better and that’s just perfect). Perhaps I’ll take you back to bed, make you wait._ He pauses, into her hard. _Hmmm. I wonder how my little wolf bitch would take my sword grip? I must warn you it scratches-you’d have to be very careful little wolf_. She yelps and squirms and he picks up one hand to cover her mouth, _So you do like it ,wolf -bitch._ He grins, putting his hnds on her hips gripping hard, sliding her up and down. _Perhaps I’d like that-seeing my little bitch so frenzied she’d fuck herself on my sword grip , you’d cry out so sweetly._ Sansa moans in high sweet noises and grips his neck sliding back and forth on him, the water rocking both of them, holding her up. Ser Jaime leans to her ear. _And you know what I’d love best, little wolf.? That every day I’d have it on my hip and know it had been inside your sweet cunt._ Sansa squeals and he doesn’t stop her. _My cloak still smells of you little cub, makes me think of fucking you over and over-I’d take your maidenhead a thousand times on it and I will._ He is thrusting, she is sliding, both splashing and frenzied. _Put your hand down, touch yourself._ he groans holding on. _Good, good slut, good wolf-bitch._

Sansa rubs, gasping feeling like she can barely breathe that everything is this fire between her legs, feeling herself clench at her Ser’s cock- she can’t help it but gasps and moans and cries out as Ser Jaime whispers _yes you may wolf-bitch come for me, come for your Ser._ He bites into her shoulder and at last she howls and collapses in pleasure. It’s then that he can’t hold out anymore and clawing at her back fills her, both of them falling into each other’s arms as Sansa shudders, once, twice, three more and then her head falls onto his shoulder, Her fingers reach for the soft shorn hair at the back of his neck that she loves and for the most recent in so many times that day Ser Jaime purrs. 

_Such a good little cub._ he kisses her on the top of the head, holds her tightly as she spasms one more time. _Such a good little wolf-girl._ He runs two fingers under her chain to tip her chin up for a kiss. Sansa kisses him back with such passion that he wishes he were instantly hard again, to fuck her furiously, but he kisses back tonguing her with intense bliss.

Sansa blinks. _Did you forget something wolf-girl?_ Sansa breathily whispers _Thank you Ser. Good cub._ he murmurs, nibbling at her shoulder. Sansa tucks her head onto his damp shoulder. _Did forget something Ser._ she yawns. _Some of it won’t work on you I don’t think._ Ser Jaime tries hard not to laugh, able to hide it by burying his face in her hair. 

_We’ll get dried off, wolf-girl_. He kisses Sansa again, biting at her tongue. _When we get back to my bed, you can make a few suggestions. And we’ll try them all._ He grins, swatting at her as she gets out of the tub to dry him, When she does, she nestles her head against him. 

 

 _I’m glad Ser._ Sansa says eyes sparkling. _I can’t wait._

 _If that was insolence, wolf-girl you won’t get anything except one of my old gloves to play with._ Ser Jaime scruffs the back of her neck chewing and nibbling, bringing her to heel. _Be good. Yes Ser_. Sansa says, her eyes downcast, yet sparkling. _Let’s get back then, little cub.Hurry, I have such an appetite_ Ser Jaime growls back at her. Sansa smiles as the door closes behind them, the scent of sage and honey still heavy in the air.


	23. In the Dreamlands (SerxCub, SerxCubxLady)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firelight.  
> Daydreams may be wishes.  
> Cersei dreams.

Sansa lies gasping for breath on the rug in Ser Jaime’s room, still clutching him tightly inside her him resting his golden head on her chest, rumbling purring as he nuzzles, bites, shivers to collapse on her again. _Mmmm_ he rumbles, _you are delicious wolf-girl_ rubbing against her cheek and face nipping at her ear, soft twist of tongue along her face. She moans with delight _oh Ser that..that was wonderful,_ looking up with a sweet smile that is so delicious he is immediately disappointed that he cannot instantly plunge back into her, though he thinks she would be most welcoming.

 _Wolf-girl, my goodness-there is no satisfiying you is there?_ Ser Jaime nips at her neck, kisses at the claw marks he as left on her as she arches her back and curls her toes like she’s trying hard to draw him back in.  
Ser Jaime has an extremely wicked idea. Turning to lie on his side he strokes along the curves of her body pausing to toy with her nipples, feeling her sensitized body tremble as she sighs in pleasure trying to reach him. He knows that she so wants his fingers in her pretty cunt again, desperate. He enjoys watching her squirm in the bonds, so very hungry for him.

Ser Jaime fixes her in the eye, hand firmly on her head so she can’t move, tucking a finger under her chain. I think I know something he growls at her. Desperate, naughty, incorrigible he moves his fingers down to stroke her pearl as she softly sighs and moans, bucking her hips to try and get him inside her.

He pins her down, the light from the hearth painting his body in soft golds, changing her hair to a halo of bright flames. _Bite._ He puts a glove into her mouth, tugging at it gently, making her work for until it’s in her pretty mouth, silencing her but not stopping anything in those eyes.

 _I know what this is,_ Ser Jaime says, wrapping a curl of her scarlet hair around his finger. _I think you do too_ -he kisses her- _my little wolf-girl’s in heat._ Her eyes are suddenly wide and she squeaks around the glove. _We’ll have to do something about this_ he murmurs, licking softly at her cheek, nibbling at her ear feeling himself growing aroused again as he feels her quiver. _Either we can drug you to keep you quiet and docile_ -eyes widen _or since you don’t like that_ he murmurs, leaning to whisper in her ear _I could see that you get what you’re craving so very badly, little wolf._ Her eyes are huge and she is softly quiet, staring at him as he rubs her lightly on the belly, like a beloved pet. 

_Perhaps I’ll fuck you again_ he whispers reaching down to stroke her pearl, slipping the tips of two fingers into her, feeling her already so slick she takes them swiftly looks up at him. _I know you like it-the way your sweet little cunt grabs at me, your squeals, the way you wriggle and beg for more, harder-there is no satisfiying you.So my little love-I certainly would be so sad to see you drugged-he swirls his fingers around her pearl, hearing pretty soft moans, feeling her lift her hips to his fingers-and I do want to see you happy. He grins fiercely _Especially if it makes me happy. Easing your distress would make me very, very happy_ He licks at her, throwing a leg over her to pin her down._

__You’re very strong. Very healthy._ Sansa’s eyes grow wide, bright, her fingers flutter where her wrists are tied . Ser Jaime smiles sharply, watching her shiver, waiting for his next words._

__Wouldn’t it be nice to fill you up, little love?_ He growls nipping at her neck, kissing. Is my little cub broody? He watches her carefully, strokes her between the breasts, cupping them softly, watching her face._

_Sansa groans deeply, is so slick it almost hurts but she’s suddenly afraid thinking itswrongitswrongwecouldn’tthey’dcomeforall of us. Her eyes swirl with fear and pleasure Shhhh.says Ser Jaime, stroking her face, kissing her cheek, running his fingers under her golden chain. Its all right Just enjoy what we’re doing. I know I will._

_He starts rubbing a hand over her belly. _So soft and pretty--wouldn’t you like my seed in there all safe and warm inside you? Let it stay? Mmmm._ he feels her body arch under his hands. _I’d love to feel myself in you-no wrong time, no tea, just your sweet body getting what it needs._ He kisses her on the cheek, I’d feel so good inside you, making you nice and full. _You’d love for your Ser to put a nice seed in there wouldn’t you?_ Happy squirming, Sansa’s warm sweet breath against his skin, panting. _Good._ He trails his lips between her breasts. _Your pretty breasts will be a little sore at first but you like things like that-especially when I do them to you._ Sansa groans again, thrusting her hips at the air._

__Your belly would start getting very round-I’d feel it every day when I fucked you, making sure, my little wolf. And when I knew_ \--he smiles rolling her just enough so he can lick at her neck_-he whispers- _I’d fuck you just to fill you up again and again. He kisses her on the ear, scruffing her neck Sansa wriggling from pleasure. Wet all over your thighs-my goodness, you must like this. I can smell it on you._

__I’d wrap myself all up around you so I could touch your pretty belly every night-my little wolf-girl all full of a prince or princess._ He strokes her between the legs, along her wet thighs, turning her on her side to rub at her from behind, painfully hard again. Ser Jaime cups her breasts, playing with the nipples as _yes yes, yes Ser_ , Sansa sighs back. _Your breasts would be beautiful-so very sweet. I’d love to touch them as they filled up-you’d be all sleepy and dreamy, wolf-girl with your belly full. I’d make sure you were safe, all round , lovely and pale and shining like the moon.__

_He is whispering now raising and lowering against her rubbing._

__I’d have to put you on your hands and knees. You like that._ He growls lovingly feeling Sansa rub against him breathing in fierce gasps. _My wolf-girl.__

__I’d taste you of course-I couldn’t keep from licking my little wolf-you’d want it a lot before you got very large and you'd still be wanting my cock, so much. I ‘d barely be able to make it inside you before spending knowing you had my babe inside you-my sweet little wolf all heavy from me. I’d love that._ He slips a finger between her legs again and his wolf-girl is dripping, breathing so heavily that he removes the glove to hear her soft little noises._

__My little cub with a nice full belly, full sweet breasts. Mine._ He whispers. I’d suckle them. I’d love to taste how sweet your milk is on my tongue, feel how it is to drink from my beautiful girl. He feels Sansa shiver with pleasure._

_**(past and present suddenly together, sweetness on his tongue coming so quietly as he sucks on her, because no change in her beautiful body could ever make him stop wanting, needing her you are beautiful oh my sweet Cersei, my little wolf yes my loves yes)** _

__I’d be mad for drinking from you, would love it to swallow all that sweetness inside of you my little love._ _

_**(Cersei’s sharp little teeth on the wolf-girls breast, licking and sucking and Ser Jaime wishes he could give her that comfort, that sweetness stroking her golden hair as they drink from their little wolf, for her to know what it’s like to be held, safe sustained as she did for him.  
For so long after when Cersei wanted him her milk would let down as if her whole body were overflowing from desire and he wanted them to stay wound together forever like that and oh the wolf-girl would be pure sweetness for both of them yes, little cub we love you it doesn’t matter as long as you are here ) ** _

_Ser Jaime has to take a minute to breathe raggedly as Sansa looks back with her worried eyes._

__It’s all right wolf-girl, it’s all right. _He kisses her long and sweetly, there there, circling her pearl with his fingers as she moans happily. _Shhh. You’re doing so well._ He runs his lips over her nipples, sucks gently and Sansa sighs so warmly _yes Ser yes_ that he fingers her again, _ __

__so beautiful. I’d kiss and rub your belly-like me being inside you all that time. And I’d know you’d be all mine forever, my cub and my babe in her belly._ Sansa sighs so deeply that he almost spends outside of her but then slips in, feeling her moan sweetly, her cunt milking at him, the way his little wolf welcomes him. _Yes, wrap your legs around, that’s just right sweet little cub we love you so much want to fill you little love yes yes_  
he starts to suckle on her breast and Sansa groans, clear how much she likes it. He feels her shake so deeply, trembling in his arms as she comes and _gods she’s wet as a river and she’s his and oh by the seven, so sweet and round and wet from him just the tiniest thing and_ _

_Ser Jaime comes quietly, deeply barely able to speak Sansa whispering it’s all right Ser, I’m here you’re safe, you’re inside me Ser always and as he puts his head on her chest his whole body shudders again like he’s spent all of him inside her. He slides up shaken, but recovering. _Oh sweet little cub that was wonderful_ just wonderful. He kisses her and holds her, untying her hands and they cling together for what seems like hours, Sansa rocking him, him rocking her, clinging tightly to each other in the light of the flames. _

_**He makes sure Sansa has her tea, gives her water when she’s thirsty untangles her hair with his fingers, nuzzles her almost unable to speak. He doesn’t have to and neither does she. That night he lies on his side, clinging to her, softly fingering her chain, falling asleep to her breath in the dark. His last thought before sleep is of Cersei beside them, touching him, both of them sheltering their little wolf, thinks of saying it’s all right Cersei, I love you we love you Cersei, you’re safe you’re home, you’re finally home. He dreams of both of their fair heads touching over Sansa , fingers entwined holding her tight like a ruby, a soft pearl, precious so full of light, _we will never ever let her go_ In her sleep far away, where no one can see, there is a softening of Cersei’s face in the moonlight and though no one would believe it she sighs sweetly, dreaming of soft hands, a perfect golden heart. It’s the first time in her time away she has slept through the night.  
Outside the stars cover them all.**_


	24. Roses  (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A valet.
> 
> Ser Jaime and the Art of War.
> 
> A coronation.

Today Sansa is dressing Ser Jaime Lannister, the long chains between her wrist cuffs tinkling like little bells, fitting on his cream shirt, tucking ends, adjusting. fitting, clothes already scented with the scents he prefers (a bit of rosemary and sage from the clothespress, some spice, but Sansa is glad his own spicy scent makes it through so she can breathe it in, slipping on his surcoat, then his gloves, wrapping him in his white cloak, smoothing his hair and pressing a kiss to each shined boot, then holding up the polished metal of the mirror so he can see. 

Ser Jaime Lannister thinks he has never had a sweeter valet.  
_Up. Good girl._  
He growls softly at her.  
_How good you are at tending to me, wolf-girl._  
He reaches two fingers under her chain, pulling her up for a kiss. Sansa kisses him back passionately, sliding the tip of her tongue past his lips cheekily for a nip.

  _Naughty._ He steps back, as if leaving.

  _I did have a treat for my wolf-girl but if she’d rather be naughty I suppose I could be convinced to leave her here with an old glove of mine for company._ He pauses and his emerald eyes glitter at her.  
_And no you couldn’t._

Sansa’s face falls, her eyes downcast below her long lashes.  
Ser Jaime wraps his hand around her silver chains tugging her even closer. _Then again, I think we can attend to any of your transgressions later if you are a well behaved cub today._ He kisses her on the forehead, reaching a dark gloved hand to caress her breasts. 

_I must hurry away wolf-girl.  
The Kingsguard will not lead itself no matter how much I have tried to instill that virtue in them-much less rewarding than instilling what I wish in you, sweet girl. _

He grins emerald eyes glittering, teeth bright. _I’m off to war. Your favor?_

 _Yes Ser._ Sansa’s chains jingle as she reaches into the top of her gown and pulls out a handkerchief, her eyes sparkling. _Embroidered by you, little princess-such a sweet little wolf-girl. You kept it where I wanted didn’t you?_

Sansa blushes, suddenly warm and hot between her legs as Ser raises the cloth to his lips.  
_Ah. You did._ He takes her in his arms, rubbing against her. _Be still. Good little wolf._ He thrusts slowly against her, biting at the back of her neck. _Mmm. I’ll be carrying that and thinking of having my sweet little wolf-girl all around me every minute of the day. Squeezing me tight-or maybe wrapped and spending between her pretty lips._

Sansa gasps as he rubs, pushing against her. He comes forward to kiss her, one hand gripping her chains, one her hair. He pushes his tongue deep into her mouth, her tongue caressing his. She growls, feeling herself already slick and warm.

 

Ser Jaime breaks the kiss. 

_Time for that later, naughty cub._

_Kneel. Kiss._  
Sansa kneels, her neck curved sweetly, her red skirts spread like a flower. He holds out his hand. Sansa licks the tips of his gloved fingertips, sucking softly at the leather. Ser Jaime purrs again at the exquisite sight of his wolf-girl on her knees in front of him, feeling her tongue gently stroke each finger and wishes violently that he could simply throw her onto the bed. _Mmm. I suppose you have been good enough, little one._ He gently tugs at her hair till she rises, unlocks her chains slips the key on his belt and slips a piece of paper into her hand. _I think you’ve earned your treat. Be here, just before sunset, stay out of sight. I won’t be alone-_ he kisses her on the forehead-- _but after that I will be._ He runs his hands along her body lewdly, smiling. _Don’t be late, little cub -and no you may not._  
When the door closes Sansa bites her lip in what Ser would certainly consider a pout.  
***  
The day moves slowly, Sansa writes to her Lady, making sure to say how much she misses her, embroiders three fingers of a glove, reads a few pages of a history, fingers the gold of her chain. If she could, she’d make the sun move faster.  
***  
Sansa cloaks herself and makes her way far out just as the sun is sinking; as she arrives she sees high benches, a box, wide empty space. She doesn’t fully comprehend until she thinks-people,bright banners, music; the tourney field. She feels a delicious shiver and slips under the benches.

Ser Jaime is in the center fighting, practicing melee with two of the newer knights -one with hammer, one with mace. 

It is beautiful-harsh, brutal, bright and beautiful.  
Ser Jaime dodges the hammer to block the mace, his sword bright as a swipe of claws and the mace falls. Sansa catches a bright glimpse of Ser Jaime’s sharp toothed smile, a wild flame in his green eyes. Fury and perfection, he is beautiful. Sansa sighs, feeling her skin tingle,a wild brightness grow inside.

Ser Jaime moves, gracefully, sharply, lightly, ready to pounce. Sansa hears him snarl, watches him spring, her heart in her throat. While he does he weaves back and forth like a great cat and too agile to be caught by the hammer, lunges at him. The knight with the hammer gets a few steps more but Ser Jaime is too quick for him, pressing his sword to the fallen knight’s throat. Ser Jaime waits while the other man lies prone. Silence and a harder press of the sword to the throat as Ser Jaime smiles, green eyes afire, watching.

_You’re dead if I move this another inch. What. Are. Your. Words?_

The knight remembers, gasps.  
_I yield._

Ser Jaime sheathes his sword.  
_Remember that. You’re lucky to be fighting me tonight. Forget that in tourney and they’ll be sending your body home to your mother. And she’ll be terribly embarrassed that you forgot to yield._

He smiles sharply, then grins at them. _You both-good hits, fought well. Well done_. They bow and he cuffs them on the shoulders as they walk away. In a moment his eyes sweep the area.

_I see you, wolf-girl. Come out._

Sansa does, rushing towards him-he grabs her, spins and pins her to him,snarling and biting at her throat.  
_So, my beauty. Did you like that?_ He smiles cruelly and Sansa shivers down to the bone-her lion has fought and is still full of the frenzy.  
Ser grinds against her furiously,pressing against her, thrusting.  
 He puts a hold round her neck, drags her back towards the empty benches. _Struggling. Isn’t that sweet?_ He growls into her ear. _So soft, and tender, so pretty._ His eyes are so lustful that Sansa is suddenly, harshly wet, feeling her fluids streak her thighs -her lion is fierce, an uncaged beast and she feels very small. very weak against his claws. _Kneel._ he orders her, pressing her into the dirt by the royal box, the last rays of the sun turning his hair to a golden blaze, his eyes to living wildfire.  
_Hands  forward._  
He snarls, pulling a cord from his belt and lashing her hands together hard and rough, so much that she gasps.

_Afraid, little cub? Good. You should be._

He leans into her ear and whispers _I fought for you, my lovely little whore. Every stroke I had, I was thinking of my sweet little wolf Queen._ He tips up her head. _Look at me when I’m speaking to you._

Sansa looks up to see him maddened, bright-eyed smears of blood on his face and chest, bruises already starting to bloom in reds and purples. _I told them not to be easy on me, to fight their hardest- I would be._ He tears away the shoulder of Sansa’s dress, baring her skin. _Mmm. So very sweet._

He reaches behind him to produce a crown of red and yellow roses, his eyes still whirling with lust. 

_I crown you my Queen of Love and Beauty, wolf-girl. Only mine Mine._  
He presses the crown onto her head. Sansa leans into it gasping and crying out as the thorns scratch at her flesh leaving tiny bloody tears dripping down her face. She is panting, her lips parted, body tingling, her cunt dripping. Ser Jaime growls, looking hungrily at her, removing clothing till he opens his shirt and she can see bruises and cuts around his chest and ribs.

 _All those pretty stories about a maiden comforting her knight? Little kisses and gentle bandages on hands?_ he growls, tugging at her hair. _Look at these-every time one of them hit me I thought of you. I thought of sheathing myself in your wet, sweet mouth, in your hot tight little cunt._ He tugs her face to him, licking the drops of blood away from her face and forehead. Sansa moans. 

_Good. I like that. Perhaps I’ll get some pretty tears if I keep this up._ He tugs harder and Sansa gasps, eyes watering. _Mmm. How lovely._ He yanks at her golden chain to bring her up to meet his eyes.  

_Every blow,I fought hard. I took blows and bruises so I could fuck your pretty face._ He whispers biting at her ear tugging her hair. _I won so I can slide my cock into your sweet, wet cunt and spill my seed in you._ He snarls.

 _More than a kiss, my pretty little Queen. So much more._ He tugs her over. 

_You’re going to lick me clean first --all this sweat, this blood I earned is for you._ He pulls off his shirt.  
_Some of the blood is mine, some isn’t. I’m certain it will still be fine for your tongue, won’t it, my dirty little cub?_ He presses the crown harder against her head, more bloody tears trickling along her skin. Good. You’re bleeding for me too.

Ser Jaime crushes her against him in a furious kiss, cutting the inside of her lip with his tooth, her snapping back at his tongue, sweetness and metal in both of their mouths. He jerks her up towards his dirt and blood stained chest and face. 

_Only lick wolf-queen. Show your champion how you tend to him._

Trembling, wet and pale, Sansa starts to tongue at his face, the roots of his golden hair, her tongue all copper, grit and salt, her nostrils full of the hot scent of spices from him, musk and honey, sweat and the dark scent of blood _he has bled for me_ Sansa thinks and with a deep moan, laves her Ser’s face with her tongue, soft little licks, sweeping ones covering his face, a little lioness cub licking the male of the pack clean, learning her place. She moans deep in her throat as Ser growls.

He revels in the feel of her tongue on his skin, velvety and gentle, painfully hard as he sees her face smeared with dirt and blood, her crown of roses still firmly on her head as she tongues and licks, drunk on tasting him. _Yes, wolf-girl, yes, yes that’s right, so perfect._

Ser Jaime has to hold himself back--he so wants to slide right into her-- as she moves to his chest and arms, her tongue dragging, leaving soft clean paths behind it. He groans in agony watching her work, feeling her on his skin in the open air. 

_I’ve dreamed of this, wolf-bitch_ he murmurs. _Mmmmm. It feels just as good as I thought it would and since I saw you, you were my Queen of Love and Beauty, my little wolf-bitch with such a clever tongue. If I could have done it, I would have crowned you with my roses and made you swallow me in the hall at Winterfell, I would have taken you to the courtyard and fucked you till you screamed and made them all watch as I cut my initials in you, showing all of them where you really belong._  
Sansa moans, sweetly, wordlessly excited  and he growls. _On your knees in front of your Ser, under my boots, on your hands and knees crowned and begging for my cock, such a filthy little wolf-queen._  
He tugs on her hands harder, pushing her face lower , slowly unlacing himself.  
_Open._  
_Quickly._

Sansa opens her mouth wide and deep to take him in, moaning with pleasure, feeling her nipples harden, more wetness dripping down her thighs, her heart pounding with excitement. _Careful, little wolf-that might be teeth. None of that, just your soft sweet mouth._ He thrusts harder and harder and oh by the seven she takes him up to the hilt smoothly and deeply just as she was taught to do and Ser Jaime nearly spends all of himself down her throat but 

_Down, slut. Down._  
He slashes at the cord tying her hands, freeing them. _Get that dress off or I’ll tear every shred from you_ he roars and he’s never seen the little wolf move quite so fast as he picks her up and carries her to the dirt of the tourney ground her eyes wide as saucers.  
_Yes, my little wolf-queen yes. Your champion wants you right here._  
_Hands and Knees. Now._

She moans in pleasure _yes Ser yes Ser_ head down in submission, dirtied red hair and face still crowned with her red and yellow roses, her haunches up like an animal and he can’t take it but slides into her hard straight to the hilt, fucking her violently even as her hips rise to meet every motion, her cunt slippery and hot around his cock, milking him with her tight little muscles.  Sansa only in the rags of her smallclothes, muddied hands and legs open for him and by every god, Ser Jaime is struck dumb by her beauty. _That’s my little slut, that’s my good cub, that’s my sweet lusty little bitch._ He thrusts harder and harder no tenderness, just the brute force of claiming his prize after victory as she yowls and moans and thrusts back at him, with one thrust, flooding his cock with more fluid, in the half dark her eyes huge with a gasp of surprise, then more fluid and higher sweet noises from her throat. 

Dirtied, sweaty and sticky with her and her lover’s fluids, Sansa leans back and howls in pleasure, her head in its crown of bloody roses raised to the darkened sky.

Ser Jaime roars _Mine_ sinks his teeth into her shoulder and comes into her hard and fast, pouring what feels like his entire being into her, shaking with pleasure and when he doesn’t think it’s possible, another spasm shakes his body and they collapse side by side in the dirt of the field gasping, sighing. 

Ser’s fingers reach across  Sansa’s body, resting on her pearl, swirling at it in just the way she likes. _Shhh, my love, you did so well, yes, yes, come again for me my little love_ and her hips buck against him as she cries out again, twice, falling onto his chest breathing heavily _oh Ser oh Ser oh thank you Ser_ mumbling sweetly into his chest..

He strokes her. _My sweet, sweet cub. My little love, my wolf queen. Ahhh._ he sighs. _You are a marvel._ She snuggles into his arms, pausing to give a few tender licks to his chest, wrapped in her lion’s paws.  Ser Jaime kisses her on the forehead, then gently on the lips. _Such a good girl._ _It felt so good Ser thank you Ser_ Sansa murmurs again, making soft sleep noises.

Ser Jaime thinks quickly.

 _Sansa, my little cub, we have to go back. If we don’t you’ll be ill._ ( _And so will I_ thinks Ser Jaime although he could lie here holding his wolf-girl for hours.)- _and you won’t have anything inside you for far too long._ He grins, though exhausted. _I can’t let my wolf-girl suffer like that._ He whispers. _When I’m the one that makes her suffer._ Yawningly, Sansa rises slowly as her Ser does. gently lifting her out of the dirt, lighting a small lantern and dabbing at her with a clean towel from his bag. _Mmmm._ Sansa mumbles, her crown finally tilted to one side. Hmm. Ser Jaime smiles. We’ll have to find you a sturdier crown. Something with rubies maybe? He grins cockily as Sansa smiles brightly. feeds her a handful of almonds from his bag, daubs her scratches with clear fluid (she makes a face at the sting again, the one that delights Ser Jaime every time, wraps her up in her dress, tucks away her shredded smallclothes. Sansa kisses his hand. My Ser. 

_My little love, my sweetest cub._ Ser Jaime replies, kissing her softly on the lips, a gentle flicker of his tongue between them. _Ah. Can you walk, wolf-girl?_

She can and they wander back to the Red Keep, where he bathes her, washes out her auburn hair, feeds her bits of capon and grapes, then wraps her sweetly and warmly in his white cloak, watching her snuggle into it, their eyes meeting and he can’t help but kiss her long and sweet. Sansa tries to reach up for more  kisses but her Ser is already tucking her into his bed. _There’s tomorrow, wolf-girl._ he murmurs, kissing her on the lips, taking her in his strong arms. _I’ll be right here with you. You’re safe little cub. So are you Ser_ murmurs Sansa as she rests her head on his chest. They  both sleep warm as the fire in the hearth burns low and night covers all.


	25. Interlude: A Breath From Far Away

Cersei is angry; she has just slammed the door and is left alone with candles burning low, half a glass of wine and a pastel bedroom that makes her want to chew off her own arm like a trapped animal.

The tourney is over, she has had so much charm, she wishes for every emetic a maester could give and she has just sent one of the little rosebud’s milkmaids back to her room sobbing in rags of her peach dress. She wasn’t expecting the rose vines. Cersei at least hopes she will remember them when she sits down. A souvenir, as it were.

Pacing back and forth like a caged animal, Cersei wants to kick things and throw darling knicknacks into the fire, wondering wryly how desperate the Small Council must be if she must become an ambassador. Women, of course, are non-threatening, easy to speak with. Honeycake. Handicrafts. Toy farms. Endless roses. Jams, jellies, agonizing smiles. Cersei is wondering if there are even ever any loose tongues, though at least the princess’ peach won’t be talking. 

Cersei climbs onto her bed, finding a scrap of peach and lace on the pillow which she flings away with a snarl. Then she feels an edge, paper. Cersei unrolls it. For the next half hour she reads, smiling at the message in their secret language they spoke as children, the codes and strange letters they add now and for that time her face softens. She may not smile or blush but late into the night she reads it over and over, tracing her fingers over each line, her lovers, their stories, everything.

Words bring her air when she is drowning. This is like the first deep breath from diving underwater, living, sustaining.

As the dawn comes she reads the letter one more time, traces the end lines and holds it to her heart before she consigns it to the fire. She sleeps then for a few hours, but at least those hours are sweet.


	26. Rest (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser is woken.
> 
> Sansa gets a present.
> 
> Lessons learned.

Sansa wakes, happy again, eyes wide, stretching in her Ser’s arms, lengthening herself like a cat and curling her toes in pleasure, nuzzling her auburn head against his golden one.

 _You’ll be sleeping in my laundry, wolf-girl_ , growls Ser Jaime Lannister, turning over and pushing her onto her belly, pinning her down, still half asleep. _I’m surprised you’re not ravaging it now, whispering into her ear but of course, you can’t._ He is rubbing his hard cock against her rear, clearly enjoying it.  
Sansa wriggles and purrs. Ser Jaime tugs her hair, wrapping the red strands around his strong fingers.

 _My little cub wants to play this morning? Very wicked of her. I believe she knows that I have many unpleasant things to do today._ He grins, teeth sharp and white. _Far less pleasant than tending to a naughty wolf-girl._

Ser Jaime pulls at her hands, rolling her back over on top of him, half closed eyes glinting green and bright. 

_My little cub, my rules,_ he growls. _You know, what to do wolf-girl_ and Sansa slides down between the sheets to take her Ser in her mouth.  
_Mmmm,_ he murmurs, relaxing at the feel of her soft, slick hot little mouth on him, entwining his hands in the scarlet vines of her hair. _That’s right, that’s just what I like-and it’s just what you like. I’m going to have to be a little rough with you. He snarls. I can’t say fucking my sweet girl’s mouth has made me late, much as I wish I could. Hold still._

Sansa growls as he fucks her, feeling herself grow open and wet, just as her mouth is thrusting to meet him. She gets a gentle cuff on the side of her shoulder.

_My way. Hold still, little cub. My way, not yours._

Sansa holds her mouth smooth and slippery, tonguing him just as he likes, growling in her throat, lips dripping, her arms wrapped around his hips as he drives himself into her. _Ahhhh._ He groans with pleasure and she squirms as he tugs her hair, pulling her face all the way to him as her entire body trembles.

Ser Jaime pulls her up. _Such a good girl. I’m so fortunate to have a little wolf who loves to swallow._ He ruffles her hair. _You got a lovely treat-a nice mouthful of my seed, all warm and nice for you. Was that good, my little love?_ She smiles sweetly and wickedly enough that Ser Jaime wishes with no small amount of annoyance the morning was longer.  
_Sweet girl. Up._

He leaps out of bed, the early dawn, gleaming gold on his body, limming his hair with filaments of brilliant gold, such beauty. Sansa slips on her shift  
ready to dress him, but notices that he is suddenly pulling on his own shirt, boots almost done. Sansa feels worried, looks at her Ser sadly.  
He laughs.  
_Oh, little wolf. Don’t be sad-I have something else for you today._  
Ser Jaime smiles, pulls something out from under the bed. Red silk, gold trim, a pillow large enough for a beautiful long-legged girl and Sansa’s eyes grow huge. 

_My naughty little wolf-bitch is going to stay right here until I come back._

_Over here, right by the table. Good girl._

_Off with your shift. Stand._

Sansa shivers, sudddenly feeling extra chilly and naked in front of her Ser, very small. She hears a soft clinking as he takes something from the clothespress. Hands back. Behind your neck. 

_Good girl. Such a good girl, my little love._

Ser Jaime clips a golden chain around her waist, adjusts it to fit properly and locks it with a tiny perfect key. _Only overlay on this one, little cub-need to make sure you can’t get out of it. He grins. You’ll have a real one later, but I have plans for that._ He slips on her wrist chains and quickly, surely locks them to her waist chain.

 _Doesn’t my wolf-girl look pretty? I like locking you up_ he whispers in her ear. _I don’t want my little wolf running wild. Hands and knees._  
He holds out his hand which she kisses. Ser Jaime tucks a finger under her collar.  
_I think licking is more appropriate don’t you?_

His emerald eyes bore into hers and Sansa shivers, sinking down to lick his hand with her pink tongue, licking softly at his fingertips, looking up at him, tall and beautiful. She licks slower and gentler, tasting the salt and metal on his fingertips, feels the low rumble of his chest as he sighs. _Very good, little wolf. Very good._ He sits beside her and strokes her hair. She sighs, loving the comfort of his hand, his body next to hers. He keeps stroking her with one hand, picks up something with the other.  
Stand.

Sansa rises, feels him fasten a chain around her ankle. It’s golden like the waist chain, with a soft red leather cuff, attached to the table.  
_Down. Lie flat on the pillow. On your belly_  
_Good._  
Ser Jaime purrs. pressing her down onto the pillow, she feels silk, softness, the cool hardness of her chains but best the weight of his body on top of her, pinning her to it.

_A pretty pillow for a sweet little creature- a sweet little wolf-bitch who sometimes needs to remember who is in charge._

He scratches behind her ears, her rubbing her head against them. _Mmmm. You are silent today until I tell you otherwise._ She notices there is already a large golden bowl of water near her cushion, a dish of almonds, a blanket.

 _Tonight I’m going to remind my little wolf who owns her._ He grins. _Because I want to._ He rubs her head against his shin. _That’s right-my sweet little wolf-girl. You can’t go anywhere today-all naked. All chained up. Those big, sweet eyes can’t help you now, poor thing._ He crouches close to her and whispers into her ear. _I’m going to enjoy thinking about that all day._  
Sansa shivers, feeling herself grow slick, wet again, hungry for her Ser, looking up at him.

_Boots._  
_Lick today. Just your pretty tongue._

Sansa presses her tongue to his shining cinnamon boots, tasting the leather, hears him rumble low in his chest. _You can’t kiss my cloak today-don’t want claws or teeth._  
He smiles holding the snowy edge just out of her reach, watching her stretch to try and make it, falling back on to her pillow.

 

Ser Jaime smiles. _Oh my sweet cub, don’t you look precious._  
He strokes her hair as she nuzzles against his hand, rubbing back lovingly. _Good. I’d suggest some rest, my pretty wolf-girl._ With that he touches his lips to his fingers, pressing them to her forehead and reaches on to the bed.

_To show I’m not that cruel._

Sansa catches it, one of his worn shirts, cuddling it to her cheek. Ser Jaime laughs.

 _Perhaps that will help while away the hours._ His smile is deliciously wicked as he strokes along her hairline, her chin, reaching down to play with her nipple.  
Sansa sighs sweetly as he rolls it between his fingers. Very pretty. He withdraws his hand leaving Sansa’s pretty pink tongue pointed in the air and a very frustrated look on her face. He laughs. Biting your lip, little wolf?. She bites the tiniest bit harder, making sure to catch his eye, getting a look both tender and stern.

 _Pouty cub. Be good while I’m gone._  
He reaches at her cunt and fingers her, one finger swirling around her pearl as he feels how slick she is. _Mmmm. Lovely._ He looks into her eyes, smiles deeply and wipes his hand across her face, scratching her gently on the head as she rubs her head into his hand.

He leans to whisper in her ear. And no, you may not. With an extra scratch he leans closer and whispers firmer.

_Hands and knees. All day till I unless I say. No speech unless I say._

_You won’t want to forget._ His face is firm as he looks into her eyes.

Sansa nods as Ser Jaime puts on his gloves, ruffles her hair. _Till tonight, my little cub._

Ser Jaime leaves; the door closes, leaving Sansa with a sweet breath of his scent-spices, sweat, leather a kiss of metal, delicious, one that intoxicates her. Serrr, she thinks quietly since even now she will not speak aloud, feeling her body tingle-her nipples hard where he played with her, her cunt still soft and slick from the hope of pleasure. Like any animal she tests her chain; to see how for she can go this way or that way-difficult. Specifically not long enough to reach her workbasket or bookshelf, as if Ser himself is teasing or punishing her despite being away. 

Sansa suddenly thinks this day may not be so comfortable after all and a small frown of worry creases her face. She thinks how this is different, the room suddenly so large with her silence, her chains, the tiny space she has away from the big bed, the soft chairs, the shelves. 

Inside, Sansa quiets herself. She lies down on the pillow, breathes in the scent of Ser’s shirt-his own scent of spices, sweat and honey, a breath of leather and metal, the smooth scent from the fabric itself almost like sunlight. After a few breaths, she is at peace, gentle on the inside. Sansa yawns again and notices that there is a perfect sunbeam on her pillow-and being a wise girl, lies down and drowses in the gentle warmth, her red hair catching the light, the beam gilding her pale body while she sleeps, breathing softly and sweetly, a perfect pearl set on scarlet.

***

She wakes, noticing the sky is lilac as the sun sets, hears the door in the lock, notices that her Ser is home starts to jump-then remembers to scurry on her hands and knees, chains clinking stumbling awkwardly only able to smile, but smiling anyhow.

He crouches down to stroke her, his leather gloves rough on her hair, his boots warm against her skin. _Hello, little wolf, hello! Aren’t you lovely, so happy to see your Ser? There, there--you were such a good little girl today weren’t you? Give your Ser kisses, good girl_ He scratches behind her ears and Sansa feels something melt inside, something shift--pure devotion, pure, desire, something primal she cannot fully name and doesn’t try to.

_Sit up--just like a good little cub. Well done, sweetheart, well done._

Ser Jaime moves across the room graciously, feline, all power and beauty and Sansa wants, tries following on her hands and knees, feels herself jerked back by the chain, suddenly saddened, wanting to talk but can’t. She looks confused, sadly at her Ser, who is smiling, widely.

 _Hmm. Looks like you can’t reach your Ser, little wolf-bitch._ He sits in his chair, out of her reach, looking at her, running a hand through his golden hair, which Sansa aches to feel, hand and hair and anything of her Ser. He chuckles, slipping off his cloak.  
_So piteous right now, such a sad little face, such sad eyes._ He looks at her, bending halfway so she can look into his eyes. His grin grows so sharp and wicked that suddenly Sansa shivers inside. 

Do you want to come see your Ser? Do you want to come cuddle by my boots, little cub?

He leans down, gazes firmer. _You want it very badly don’t you? Oh, those eyes-they can’t get you everything you want, but you want your Ser, don’t you? You can show me how much you do._

His voice drops to a whisper.  
_Go on, little wolf. Show me._

Sansa’s head whirls, eyes start to water the tiniest bit just as she can feel a trickle of wetness down her thighs. She puts her head down, hair hiding her face, not wanting to meet his glance, still on her hands and knees.

_Face forward, wolf-girl. I know you can do it._

Ser Jaime whispers. _You will do it._

then even softer

_To please your Ser._

She can’t help it but starts to whimper, soft at first, then more piteously, shaky but whimpering all the same, lifting her head to look up at him, one tiny tear trickling down her face. He’s smiling widely, legs crossed, gazing down at her, enjoying it.

_Oh very good, very good, my little sweetheart. Just a bit more._

Sansa whimpers harder, a bit louder, surprising herself with a few yips, trying to speak without her voice everything suddenly grown very raw inside her. Ser Jaime murmurs. _So pretty. I have something for my little wolf-bitch. You want your Ser don’t you? You want your Ser to pet you, stroke you, scratch behind those pretty little ears, don’t you?_

Sansa nods hard, smiling, yipping, feeling shaken and hopeful, wanting and nervous.

 

 _Well, then._ Ser Jaime takes a package from the table, puts it on the floor for her to open.  
_Oh, your teeth-very good, you remembered, little wolf._

She suddenly shrinks back noticing what’s in it. She’s seen this before, loop of worn red leather, with worn gold rampant lions, heavy steel buckle, ring and a plain red strap-they smell like polish musky, tinged with smoke, pitch and yes-the scent of blood.

Sansa can’t help it but howls, a mix of fear, with a hot, dark pleasure swirling in. Shamefully, she feels herself getting wetter, opening further and howls again. Ser Jaime smiles broadly, cocking his head to listen.

 _Oh my. Is there something you don’t like, little wolf-bitch?_ Ser Jaime stands, very tall, Sansa noticing every detail of his boot tips, wanting to lick but afraid to.  
_All the other Lannister bitches wear them. Why shouldn’t you? This one’s right from the kennel all ready to slip around your pretty neck._  
Sansa trembles, too overcome to do anything else. 

Ser Jaime picks up the collar and lead, holds them out to her, close to her face.

_I know you don’t like this. But I do._

He looks at her and smiles, bright as fangs.

Sansa is still trembling, nervous, scared but still with that heat, that tiny swirl of sweetness, mouth dry, eyes huge.

 _Go on_ , he murmurs, _come on, good girl, come on, your Ser wants it very much, come on, sweet little cub, come on my little love, come on, my lovely little wolf-bitch, come here._

and Sansa touches the tip of her nose, then the tip of her tongue to the hated collar. Instantly, she feels Ser’s gloved hand on her head, rubbing her, stroking her hair. _Very, very good.Such a good little cub. Such a good little wolf-bitch. Ser’s so happy with you, yes he is, good, good little girl, my wolf..._

Sansa feels the collar buckle, comfortable, then feels a tug, the leash.

 _You can nuzzle my boots, little wolf. You’ve been so good, so very good. Ser’s so proud of his sweet little bitch, his pretty little wolf.Good._ He keeps stroking her hair and does rub her ears, sweetly, making something soften, feel good in Sansa, just wanting her Ser to keep doing it.

She rubs her cheek against his boots, feeling the smoothness of the leather the sweat from her own cheek and Ser’s own slight tremble-then he walks her back to the chair, only a tiny slip from her on her hands and knees.

_Good girl, so very good. Ser’s proud of you._

His eyes sparkle as do his teeth.

 _Don’t even think of my leg. You. Will. Not. Like. It._ he growls.

Sansa nods, feeling very naked, very exposed. 

Ser eats, feeding her from his fingers- mutton, carrots, bites of turnip flavored with rosemary and sage.  
_I’m spoiling you, you know. You should really be eating over there._

He holds out his fingers when done. _Lick._

Sansa licks his fingers gently, sensually twisting her tongue around them, sucking.  
_Hm._ Ser says. _That’s what girls do, not even the sweetest of bitches. Lap. Clean them up for me._  
Sansa uses the flat of her tongue and feels her Ser relax in bliss, relaxing in his chair as she licks.

_Very good. Very, very good little wolf. Ser’s so proud of you for being such a very good little bitch. Lick your lips, get all of it, nice and tidy. Good._

He thinks for a moment, emerald eyes boring into hers.  
_Poor thing. You must be thirsty._

Sansa’s eyes are huge again both of them looking at the bowl. 

_Show Ser how well you can drink._  
Sansa tries to shake her head no and remembers she can’t.  
_Be a good little wolf bitch. You do want Ser to play with you don’t you? Or he can find something else to do...perhaps go see some of the other men and leave you chained up in the dark. Hmm. Perhaps it’s been too long since I had a drink with them..._

Ser Jaime starts to stand and with a speed she didn’t know she had, Sansa is lapping up water from the-her-bowl, swallowing quickly so hot it feels like her entire body blushes and her cunt’s betraying her again, dripping onto her thigh

Ser Jaime, watches, smiling as she slurps at the water. _That is lovely, little wolf-bitch.I like seeing your face in there, thirsty little cub. Don’t drink so fast-let me see. We don’t want you sick either-there’s more for you._

Sansa laps slower. _Very good, little wolf, very good. You must have been a very thirsty girl. Good. Good. Did you know you have pretty pink flushes all over your body? I didn’t think even you could blush that much sweet cub. Lift up your pretty face, I want to see it dripping._ He smiles. _Lovely. Just as pretty as my beloved sister said_ \-- _but_ -he whispers-- _even more beautiful than I had hoped._  
Ser unlocks her ankle chain and Sansa wiggles her toes.  
_Come._

He takes her leash and leads her to the rug closer to the fire. _There. Can’t have my dear little wolf catching cold--and I’ve got something to show you_ he growls.

_Close your eyes._

Sansa can hear motion, a muffled curse, the clothespress closing. Then she feels a hand along her back, stroking her slowly, relaxing her. _That’s my good girl. That’s my sweet little wolf._ _See? You were good and you get treats-don’t you like the way your Ser is touching you?_ Sansa wriggles and pants, feeling a warm, deep pleasure, her skin tingling.

 _Come on, come on little cub, roll over for your Ser. Show me that pretty soft belly, good, good girl. Aren’t you the sweetest little girl, yes, my darling little wolf bitch, show me you like it._  
Sansa yips and barks and tries to lick at a finger, feeling her Ser touching her belly, gently between her legs, her breasts, the soft inside of her thighs as they roll on the carpet. He laughs with pleasure as does she _good little cub. Lie still for me._

Ser Jaime strokes the soft skin of her belly as he lies beside her another hand on her hair. Sansa feels his hands drift away for a moment.

_Open your eyes._

Sansa looks and tries not to gasp like a girl, like an animal. Ser Jaime is beside her-nude, sharptoothed smile, glittering green eyes, strong, so strong. His fingers are sheathed in gold, and Sansa can see the inset honed steel edge at each one of them, razor sharp.

She whimpers and sees him smile, sweet with a sharp twist of cruelty as he slowly runs one fingertip of steel under her chin.

Sansa shivers, feeling herself open and drip further afraid, but still so wet, so open, hearing her chains rattle as she shivers.

 

 _So, my sweet little wolf-bitch._  
Ser Jaime smiles.  
_I don’t want you to forget. You have a place but sometimes you need to be reminded. I want to spoil you but I do want a good, obedient little cub._ Sansa’s eyes are huge again, afraid, even as he softly, gently uses his fingers to draw four perfect lines along each breast and her belly, some with tiny beads of blood, little rubies.  
_Don’t move._

He nudges her knees. _Open up._ Sansa is ready to scream and she can’t but gives a tiny whimper.  
_Ahh_ Ser Jaime whispers.  
_You like it when your Ser puts you in your place-I can smell your lovely little cunt from here. Perhaps I should give your pearl the tiniest touch?_ He moves his hand towards her pearl, Sansa gasps and holds still and feels the tiniest brush of air right by it. 

Ser Jaime smiles. _Good little cub. Brave. ___

___He whispers. _Never forget my claws, sweet little wolf. I am a lion-and I will never be tame for you, nor for anyone. Never.__ He looks deep into her eyes  
_You’re going to be a good obedient little wolf-bitch aren’t you?_  
Sansa nods yes and Ser Jaime smiles.  
_Good._

___Close your eyes. Hands and knees._ _ _

__She feels a rush of air, a clunk on the table then feels her Ser behind her._ _

___Open your eyes. Spread._ _ _

__Sansa opens her eyes, uses her fingers to spread open the soft petals of her cunt, feels the slickness on them, showing her Ser how open and wet she is._ _That’s mine. Your sweet cunt is all mine. You are all mine-every littlest bit, wolf-bitch. Don’t forget it.__  
Ser Jaime rubs his head against hers, Sansa can breathe in the scent of spices and honey from his body, his golden hair, feeling deep, intoxicated.  
_Very good, little wolf. Push yourself down in front so I can see, that’s a good little bitch._

_She feels Ser rubbing against her, his cock softly wetted by her juices. _Such a pretty bitch. My pretty, sweet, cub so wet for me.__ Ser breathes hot against her ear, Sansa feeling his body press against her.  
_I’m going to mount you, wolf-bitch. Remind you how a lion takes you-for my pleasure so you know your place, little cub._  
He growls at her _and because I want to. I want to fuck your tight, hot slick little cunt till you scream for my pleasure. My pleasure, not yours._

__Sansa shivers._ He scruffs her, gnawing at her neck, moving his head back and forth. _That's my little cub, my sweet little whore_ _

_He slides into her hard, fast, up to the hilt all the way back out, back in again, rough, hard, Sansa yelping at the roughness. Oh little cub, you’re so tight, it feels so good to fuck myself into you hard -my sweer wolf-bitch, still so wet for me yes, that’s right._ Sansa moans, makes soft animal noises, feels Ser’s hand resting on her throat, bows lower, lifting her haunches.  
_Hold still. I want to hurt you._ Sansa gasps as he thrusts into her, feeling like she is bruising on the inside; she can't help it but yelps with pain. _Yes my little wolf-bitch, my sweet girl, three good hard more for your Ser. Yes._ _It hurts and Sansa cries out, screaming on the last one, feeling Ser’s hand move to her breast, gently playing with the nipple. _Good girl, my best girl, you did so well, Ser’s so proud of you, you’ll be good now_ He’s gasping, having to slow to hold off, his wolf-girl driving him deliciously mad. Sansa melts back inside, feeling her walls clutch, become slicker and slicker, moaning in delight. _There, my sweet little wolf-bitch, You fuck back now, slowly, just as you like it. you’ve earned it, good little girl, Ser is so proud today. Play with your pearl, make yourself feel good for your Ser..._ Sansa slides back and forth back and forth, slowly picking up speed, rubbing, her moans turning to yowls of pleasure, Ser grabbing onto her sweet hips _oh yes my sweet little wolf oh yes I can feel you getting so wet for me oh my good girl come for your Ser yes my sweet little girl, yes little wolf come nice and hard for your Ser_ Sansa’s cries fill the room and Ser Jaime can’t help but thrust furiously, like a beast. _Can't hold back, you are too perfect, my little girl oh you’re fucking back, such a good little wolf_ _

He grimaces and smiles as Sansa lowers herself further so he can fuck deeper _oh yes my girl perfect you were made for me to fuck oh my sweet wolf that’s right, so tight so sweet my little cub, all mine all for me, fucking my wolf-girl's beautiful cunt, yes my little love_ Ser Jaime roars and it seems to shake the very air, collapsing, pouring himself deep inside her as Sansa howls again in pleasure at the feel of it. _Oh little wolf-girl. oh my little cub._ Ser Jaime sighs, resting on top of her. _So good, so perfect, my sweetest girl._ He rolls over with her in his arms, moving his elbow to doge a bit of chain. He kisses her on the forehead, then full on the lips, tongues twisting and caressing and not a nip at all from the girl. 

_Ser is so, so proud of you, wolf-girl. You did so well, my little love, yes._ He lies on his back, clasping Sansa to him. Good, good , sweetest of cubs, best girl. Sansa’s eyes are closed, she's softly rubbing against him. 

_Sansa? Sweet girl, you can speak._

_Ser, lion, beautiful my Ser yours your cub_ Sansa mumbles, her hair in sweaty bunches over his chest. 

Ser Jaime smiles fully, stroking her. _Good. You are, my little love._

They lie by the fire; Ser takes away the leather collar untangles her hair, sponges her with a clean towel, feeds her a few almonds, gives her water from his cup, then scoops her into bed, letting her curl sweetly around him. _I’m going to sleep in the morning, little cub_ he murmurs. _And then when I wake you’ll get your treat, greedy little wolf._ Sansa laughs mumbling yes Ser and just as Ser Jaime Lannister is thinking of the day to come they fall asleep, lion and wolf clutching each other as if clinging to life itself.


	27. Polished (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closed eyes.
> 
> Polished leather.
> 
> Sansa tells a secret.

Ser Jaime Lannister walks, holding his girl’s hands. Sansa doesn’t know where she is going yet-Ser has insisted she close her eyes as they walk.

 _So I can take you by the hands, of course, little cub._ Sansa knows it is evening; the cool air on her cheeks, the farther away smells of fire, the grass and rocks under her feet-then a dry sweet scent, soft noises, hair, leather. Sansa think’s she’s guessed.

 _Do you want to see your treat little cub?_ She hears Ser whispering in her ear his words burning hot on her skin because yes, she does.

_Stand._

Sansa stands still, feels her cloak removed, coolness on her skin and face, the slow gentle removal of her gown and smallclothes-- _beautiful_ Ser whispers and she feels a kiss on her belly before she feels his gloved hands on her shoulders.

_Open your eyes._

Sansa opens, blinking at the soft honeyed light-horses, racks of leather, smells of polish and hay and then Ser standing by her glowing as if he is lit by within- his hair luminous gold, his teeth gleaming white in a sharp smile. 

_See anything you like, wolf-girl?_

Sansa looks in front of her, gasping with delight. _May I, Ser?_

_Of course._

She sees a sawhorse and on it a saddle, beautiful, tooled on the sides in red and gold, lions. Sansa drops and presses her cheek to it. Ser smiles.

_Very good, my little love. It’s your Ser’s--see how smooth it is? So nice?_

Ser comes to caress her cheek and Sansa moves her head to his boots. _Thank you Ser_ she whispers. _Oh, my wolf-girl, you’ll thank me for more than that._ He wraps her hair around his gloved hand and her whole body shivers.  
_I know you’d love to taste it wouldn’t you, little cub? Put your pretty tongue all over my saddle?_ He growls.  
_I dreamed of tying you hand and foot and throwing you over it, taking my sweet wolf-girl far away from that miserable cold place, taking you somewhere warm._ He tugs at her hair. Bedding you too and taking that pretty maidenhead while you curled around me, wrapped your legs around me and begged me to fuck you harder. He whispers.

_Go on. Have a little taste, sweet girl._

Sansa places her tongue to the saddle, pressing her tongue to the saddle, tasting it, salt, metal, leather.  
_Mmmm. You like that wolf-girl. Don’t you look lovely, naked as your nameday, licking at my saddle. Such a good, good girl. Lick harder, that’s a good little wolf._ Sansa presses her lips and tongue closer to the leather, using her tongue tenderly, firmly, shivering with pleasure.

_My saddle’s going to be the shiniest when I ride out--nothing like a bit of wolf-girl tongue. Perfect-mmm, do you like that your Ser sits there? I know you do. It’s making your sweet little cunt wet just thinking about it._

Sansa shivers, licks harder, feeling her skin tingle, her thighs feeling slicker by the moment, presses her lips and tongue closer to the leather inhaling, intoxicated.

_You will lick me everywhere, little wolf-girl--even more than you did at the tourney field. I know you’ll like it, you love the taste of your Ser. Is that a blush I see on my little cub’s skin? So lovely.Mmm._

Ser Jaime runs his hands through her long red hair, moving his fingers over her nipples, till they stand bright and pink.

Sansa moans with delight as his fingers squeeze and pinch. _Well done my little love._ Ser Jaime lifts her, throwing her over the saddle, her head and hands facing down in the front, on her stomach, her legs tall but still not enough to reach the ground. Ser reaches over to tie her hands, the rough rope scratching at her skin, slipping a finger in as Sansa gasps, growling into her ear, with a few soft flicks of tongue, a nibble:

_Has my little cub got a hungry cunt? Does my sweet girl want her Ser's cock?_

Ser Jaime rubs against her, Sansa feeling his cock harden as he does, grinding against it- _mmm. Of course she does. You just can’t get enough, can you, my lovely wolf-bitch?_

Sansa pants and murmurs already feeling that delicious achy, empty feeling inside her, soft wetness on her thighs, surreptitiously rubbing herself against the leather.

Ser Jaime stands beside her for a moment, stroking her hair, then wrapping the wine-red strands around his hands, tugging softly. He comes to face her and smiles wickedly.

 _We’re going to play a game. You’re going to tell me a lovely secret. If it makes me so hard I can’t stand it--I will fuck your pretty cunt so hard that you scream. And you’ll thank me, for it little love._  
He moves back behind her, running his fingernails hard down her back enough that she wants to arch and purr.

 _If they don’t_ -Sansa can’t see him but knows he is smirking-- _well, you’ll be a very sad wolf-girl. I’ll have to take care of myself with you tied up here and well we both know you like watching that._ Sansa’s body flushes red. We both like it, little wolf-and you like it best when you can clean me up and lick everything off my hands (and oh she blushes). Though she can’t see it, he smiles. _Greedy wolf-girl. But of course, you'd be lying here_ -he snarls _and I may not let you for a couple of days-so you can clear your head, remember a few things_. Sansa lets out a squeak, eyes huge.

_Well, I guess you’ll have to tell me something splendid. Come on, my sweet little wolf-bitch--the next few days depend on you._

Sansa can’t see him with her head thrown facing forward, away from him but she can hear him laugh. _How silly of me. I’m going to show you something lovely while you do that-if you tell me a secret._  
His fingertips start brushing against her petals, slow and agonizing.  
_I suggest you make it a very good one-I’ll be very happy. So will you._  
Ser moves his hand and leans over top of her pressing her tightly into the saddle, deliciously heavy on top of her. _Still breathing? Good. That means you can whisper. Tell your Ser everything, my sweet girl._

Sansa almost can’t bear the shame-it is a terrifyingly beautiful kind-once she has said something she cannot unsay it so she whispers into her Ser’s ear, feeling her cunt grow slipperier, then feeling her Ser move, then his first finger inside her.

 _Oh my, wolf-girl. What a wonderfully dirty little creature you are. Have me fuck you in front of the Kingsguard? I bet you’d like all of them drooling over that pretty cunt_ -thrust- _that belongs to me._ He snarls into her ear, thrusting a finger into her. _I’d have you spread on the weirwood table-let them get a good look at my little girl. So pretty._ Sansa trembles. _Perhaps I’d tie you up so you couldn’t close those pretty legs._  
Ser Jaime laughs. _Oh that was a nice shiver, you must like that. All those men, staring at you, wanting your sweet, tight little cunt..._ You’re making me very, very hard, little cub. Be careful. His finger moves in circles inside her, pressing against her front wall. _I might just carry you up there bound and all right now. I’d love to watch their faces and yours--certain you’d be the first naked wolf-girl up on that table in well--_ he chuckles _-possibly hundreds of years.Yes my little love, it would be wrong--but isn’t that why you want your Ser to do it to you? You’ve earned another finger just for that._ Sansa cries out as he shoves into her cunt harder and deeper, her pearl rubbing against the saddle as she yowls in delight and she squeezes his fingers as hard as she can. _Hmm. Perhaps I’ll have you be a surprise-call a meeting and have you spread out like the loveliest treat-I might sprinkle you with gold dust so you sparkle._ Sansa moans, more wetness dripping down her thigh. _I’d close and lock the door-to make sure they couldn’t get out._ He groans pushing against the front of her walls, working his fingers back and forth. _Would my little wolf-girl like that? To be displayed like a wonderful treat just for her lion, for all those starving men to see?_ Ser Jaime’s breath is ragged as he thrusts his fingers and presses harder.  
_no one would touch you. No one mounts you except your Ser._ Sansa is gasping and rubbing harder at the pressure of his fingers, feeling something shift inside of her. _I would too-I’d bite at those pretty breasts, bury my face between your sweet thighs and tongue your pretty slit and pearl until you screamed,begging me to fuck you, moaning, making your lovely wolf -girl noises._ Ser Jaime is rubbing harder at the inside of her cunt-Sansa feels like she’s floating from the pleasure and from being partway off the ground. _Yes-I know I’d come up with my face dripping--_ the fingers go away and she feels him pressing his body heavily on her again to whisper in her ear _but that’s what your hair is for-something pretty to wipe off my face before I slide into your sweet, tight cunt._ Sansa gasps and sighs squeezing him tighter. _Hmm. We’ll have to do that then._ He growls pushing down on her so heavily that she gasps pain. _All of the men I lead seeing my wolf-bitch spread, soaking wet and open for me, seeing how I fuck my sweet little wolf who begs for it and calls me Ser, licks my boots and is all mine._ All Sansa can do is whisper _yes_ and it’s then that she feels bare skin against her-- _open up my little cub, my little whore, I’m here_ and with ease he slides hard and deep into her pushing and thrusting so fiercely Sansa cries out as her Ser sighs in bliss. _Mmm. I’d love hearing you scream for me as while I fuck you deep and hard and if I went like this_ \--two, there quick thrust and a hard shove against the front walls of her cunt and Sansa screams in joy, feeling what seems like buckets of fluid pouring out onto the saddle,onto the ground Ser snarling _you’d flood that table so much it would drip. I’d love that--it probably would smell like my little cub’s cunt for another hundred years_ Even though Sansa can’t see she know’s he’s grinning. _I might just look forward to going then-but being inside my sweet wolf-bitch is so much better_ -and he bites down on her skin as she cries. Ser thrusts so hard that Sansa cries out again, sweat making her hair cling to her shoulders- _rub against my saddle with your pearl, I know you can good wolf- bitch, good_ and Sansa rubs harder feeling the pressure increase and finally screams out again. _Good girl, you’re my sweet little cub, my little love, all mine all mine._ Ser growls harder thrusts into her, snarls, roars seeming to shake the air itself as he thrusts twice more, pinning her to the saddle breathing hard letting himself press into her, heavy as Sansa breathes deeply. He rubs his head against hers, his gold head against her red, nuzzling her as she moves her head back and forth to nuzzle him. Sansa feels him lift up and off, start stroking her hair. _You did so well, my little love. Your Ser is very proud of you._ He kisses her on top of the head, helps her down. _A few little scrapes? Oh well, you’ll just need to endure, my little wolf_ then kisses her, Sansa’s tongue entwining with his. He sits her on his coat, cuts off the rope, gives her water and dabs at her scrapes. _Right as rain._ Ser Jaime smiles as Sansa snuggles into his arms. _Eat these._ He gives her dried apricots and almonds and she swallows them down drinking more water as her Ser strokes her hair, working out a tangle. _Very best, sweetest of girls._ Ser raises an eyebrow after she finishes. _Well. You seem to have gotten my saddle wet._ Sansa’s eyes are huge and her eyelids flutter. _Because I am kind, only one little lick from you-this time._ Sansa makes sure he is watching and rubs her cheek into the damp leather tonguing it. Ser smiles. _Well done, little love. Can you walk?_ She can-he wraps her up in her clothes and cloak, helps her back, brushes her hair and tucks her into bed, where he curls up with her. _I wanted to think of you every time I use it_ -he murmurs- and now I will. Sansa snuggles into his chest making soft little noises in her throat like she does before she sleeps. _Next time we play secrets_ Ser murmurs- _in here. Want to look in your eyes and see you blush better when you tell me._ He nips at her ear as she squirms against him murmuring _yes Ser, yes._ As Sansa is wondering what the next day will bring, she stops in the middle of a thought and falls asleep-and minutes later, Ser Jaime Lannister follows her, holding her closely to him, both safe and pleased.


	28. Needlework (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: There is needle play. If you do not like needle play, you may wish to skip this.
> 
> Someone gets a surprise.
> 
> Sansa gets a surprise.
> 
> New words.

In the morning, while his wolf-girl sleeps, wound in her red hair, her hands tied with her delicate chains, eyes closed and the gold chain on her fair breast rising and falling, Ser Jaime unrolls a message, brought in by a swift raven. He paces slowly, making sure not to wake his wolf-girl, reading, a wicked smile unfurling itself across his face. _Delicious_ he thinks. _Delicious. Someone needs a surprise,_ he thinks and it is with a electric charge of pleasure that he thinks of Sansa’s kisses, Cersei’s beautiful lips. Yes.  
***

 _You mustn’t neglect your Lady, my little love. I will not have it._ Ser Jaime grins, hair shining like beaten gold in the afternoon sunlight. Sansa looking up from her scarlet pillow, eyes wide with nervousness. _No, wolf-girl, I am not displeased with you._ He tugs at her gold chain, scratching at her ears, kissing her on the top of her head. _I am pleased beyond measure. However, your Lady deserves attention even if she is not present right now. I think it would be worthwhile for you to spend some time thinking on that._ Sansa nods. I know you miss her. Sansa nods, fingering her gold chain. _I do too--and while you are a delight, I must see to your responsibilities there as well-otherwise, I would be a poor Ser, wouldn’t I?_  
Sansa is unsure how to answer. _I would._ he says, smiling sweetly at her. _Come now, wolf-girl-let’s spend some time with your Lady._

When they are back in her quarters, Sansa catches a wave of scent when she is laid on the bed; lavender, the spices that seem to drift from her Lady’s skin, like Ser’s but different-sharper, sweeter, hers. Ser strips her to her smallclothes, removing her wrist chains. _For your comfort, little love._ He smiles, kissing her softly on the lips. His jade-green eyes are the last thing she sees before he wraps a cloth around her eyes, Sansa being slightly puzzled--he prefers her eyes open, he says, to see what is in them. Then she feels her hands bound in something slippery, the material winding around her body--feeling it Sansa thinks it must be criscrossing, but not sure, then feeling it finish around her ankles, a firmer tie, with something brushing against her feet. 

Then she feels something silky covering her-- _to keep you warm_. her Ser whispers. _You’ll be checked on, I know right where you are._ She feels his teeth nip at her ear, a long slow kiss on her lips the touch of his tongue on hers, kissing back, hungry for him, then his finger on her lips. She tries a lick, reprimanded with a gentle _No, wolf-girl. Not now._

Sansa feels his hands brush over her body, then stroking her hair, playing with it on the pillow. _Rest a while with your Lady,_ he whispers warmly into her ear then _and no, you may not with a soft chuckle, I’m not a fool-even with your hands tied you’d find a way. You may not._ Soft kiss on her forehead, then Sansa no longer feels his touch but hears _Be good, wolf-girl. I know you will_ -then the soft sound of the door closing, key in the lock.

Sansa suddenly feels terribly alone. She knows she is in her Lady’s room with its comforting scents of lavender, clean cotton of pillows and sheets, her Lady’s own deep spices and musk, but it is rare that she has been alone for so long, not knowing when someone will be back.

Fortunately, she has learned comfort and patience. Ser Jaime has made her wait-and so she breathes deep inside herself, composes herself to wait. Soon she is half asleep, her mind drifting.

_her Lady’s kisses, fierce and wild, the day the air hummed when her Lady looked at her after the game of forfeits, her sweet tongue and lips the soft curtain of her golden hair as she firmly pressed Sansa to the ground kneel to me little dove and Sansa did, what she had wanted since she first saw her Queen’s shimmering beauty at Winterfell. yes, little dove, yes_

Sansa’s eyes flutter closed, feeling the wetness start between her thighs

_her Lady’s thighs around her as Sansa licks at her Lady’s pearl, tongues her petals and lips, slowly uses her fingers as she’s been shown harder little dove harder, that’s my girl, feeling her Lady tug at her hair pull and push her to where she wants it and Sansa loves being her doll, her pet, having her tongue and lips and fingers owned by her shining goddess, who pulls her hair so hard that Sansa cries out even as her Lady does, gripped tight and Sansa’s mouth is full of sweetness-it’s that night that her Grace says my lover, mine always mine and Sansa feels her heart race and flutter banging against her ribs almost unable to sleep until her Lady is generous, using her fingers to soothe Sansa to rest naughty cub, this is what you need, that’s my bad little cub yes, for your Lady then held tight in the Queens arms like a favorite doll thinking don’t let go my Lady don’t let go, stories in the darkness and the scent of lavender in her Lady’s hair and sleep..._

and then Sansa is asleep, sweet and silent as the afternoon passes, the sky turns to violet and the moon rises, breathing sweetly and softly, dreaming still and quiet.

Softness on her lips and nibbling, harder fiercer, heaviness on her body, hands in her hair a whispering in her ear _Hello little dove_. Sansa’s heart beats fiercely unable to believe wanting to cry out _My Lady_ but covered with kisses. Sansa feels her blindfold taken off and the candle is bright as the noonday sun as she blinks, red and gold shimmer becoming her Lady.

 _How?_ she whispers. How, My Lady? smiling with joy. Cersei puts a finger to her lips. _Quiet, little dove. We have tonight, not much time to talk_ then smiling wickedly _and I have missed you so. I need to show you._

(Cersei couldn’t help but smile to see her little dove trussed up, criss-crossed with gold and scarlet ribbons, bow at her ankles under her red silk blanket, a parchment tag at the bow on her wrist reading **Compliments of SJL** \--deliciously arousing and enough to make the Queen stifle a small laugh before leaning down to kiss and bite her little dove to waking. Her little dove--and her beloved brother--would not see that.)

Cersei’s hand slides up against Sansa’s body where Sansa feels the cool, sharp point of a blade--Sansa instantly relaxes, makes low sweet noises in her throat. Her Queen smiles, teeth flashing white in the half dark, the honeyed glow of the candle. _I’ve heard that you’ve grown to like these, sweetling-so do I._ Cersei laughs low in her throat, slowly slicing each ribbon to red and gold shreds. _Pretty girl--you’ll be prettier still when I get done with you._ Sansa sighs in pleasure _Thank you, your Grace_ she whispers trying not to smile too broadly.

 _Such pretty manners._ Cersei smiles, keeping Sansa pinned, straddling her as she cuts away her smallcllothes, noticing that Sansa’s pink nipples are already hard. _Mmm. You did miss me, little dove._ She hisses. _Slut_. cutting all the way down to Sansa’s soft pale belly and thighs. _Mmmm._ the Queen smiles, considering. _Some prettiness-nice purples and a bit of blue, but I think it can be much nicer._ Cersei places her golden hilted dagger with its single ruby between Sansa’s breasts. _Hold still, little dove-it’s very sharp--you like that--but if I’m not the one who cuts you, I promise you will regret it._ Making sure she is in full view of Sansa’s sparkling eyes, the Queen unties the fastenings on her gown and folds it, placing it on the clothespress clad only in smallclothes of thin gold silk, Sansa’s eyes drawn to her full breasts and hips. _Enjoying the view, bad little cub? Cersei smiles, stroking a fingertip gently along Sansa's cheek. _Good. You’ll need something pretty to think of._ Cersei laughs, sweetly but with a touch of menace that makes Sansa shiver. Soon the Queen is on the bed beside her, both hands in front in fists, her golden hair falling in waves past her shoulders, Sansa breathing in the scent of musk and lavender, half-drunk on her Lady._

__Right or left, little dove?_ _

_Sansa tries to think. _Quickly, my girl. Night won’t last forever. Left, your Grace.__  
Sansa whispers, trying not to wriggle from excitement. Cersei’s green eyes grow bright. _I’m so glad you chose that little dove,_ she whispers, moving something to the bedside table. _I had to bring you a treat from Highgarden after all._ Cersei moves the dagger from Sansa’s breast to the side. _You will not move_ -Cersei opening her elegant hand to reveal something gold, sparkling, Sansa not sure she recognizes what it is. Cersei smiles.  
_Isn’t this lovely? The ladies in Highgarden gave it to me-they use it to weight cloth when they are working with it._ The kink in the corner of the Queen’s mouth smooths out as she smiles wickedly- _see?_ Sansa sees two sharp-toothed green and gold enamel clamps held together with a chain of tiny, heavy golden roses. Cersei lays the clamps on Sansa’s belly, stroking her. _I thought-what a nice gift this would make for my little dove_ \--she whispers-- _my favorite little needleworker,_ breathing hotly on Sansa’s cheek, then reaching down to roll one nipple between her fingers. _Be still_ , the Queen whispers no noise little dove as she pinches one nipple-- _breathe,_ clamps it tightly between the sharp teeth. Sansa lets out a shuddering breath. _Good girl, good little cub_ Cersei coos softly to her. _One more. I know you’ll take it for me, my little princess_ , rolling the other nipple and clamping it. _There, sweetling. I knew you could. Such a sweet little dove._ Cersei’s hair brushes against Sansa’s face softly, a curtain of gold silk. 

_The Queen thinks that the clamps look just as lovely as she had hoped they would, the chain of roses between them, glittering and held high by Sansa’s breasts; the Queen flicks at each nipple, hearing soft little gasps at each one, seeing tears start to pool in Sansa’s eyes. Cersei is suddenly, fiercely aroused, looking at how sweet and helpless her little dove is before her. _Mmmm_. she murmurs, running a fingertip around Sansa’s pearl, alternating it with flicks of her fingers at each nipple till Sansa is gasping and sighing softly, her body flushing pink. _

_The Queen smiles, starts to scratch and pinch at her body with fingernails, leaving slow red tracings along her skin, following each with soft caresses, till Sansa’s eyes are luminously bright, gasping sweetly and when checked-soft and slick, moving her hips against a finger._

__That’s my little dove; I knew you’d like it._ Cersei smiles, feeling Sansa’s muscles clench at her. _I heard a certain little dove has become quite accomplished at this._ Sansa’s eyes grow huge and Cersei feels muscles tighten hard when she easily slips in another finger. The Queen leans over to kiss her slowly, fingers working swiftly and quickly. _I heard my naughty little cub has become very skilled in the use of her pretty little weapon--oh, you have. I thought you’d nearly pull off a finger or two. Such a lovely grip._ Cersei moves her thumb to work at Sansa’s pearl. _Mmmm. You will take my hand and you’ll like it-not today, but soon. When I come back._ Cersei smiles watching Sansa gasp and her eyes grow huge. _Don’t worry little one, you’ll still be nice and tight, leaning over to whisper. _I know someone is very fond of your lovely little cunt and I’d do nothing to take it from him_ , feels her fingers flooded with moisture, soft panting breaths of _yes Your Grace, yes Your Grace._ __

___Good._ Cersei murmurs, holding her fingers to Sansa’s lips. _Lick. Clean me up._ Sansa opens her mouth her body burning sweetly, dripping from the touch of her Lady and slowly, lovingly tongues each of her Queen’s fingers clean, taking them back in her throat, feeling more wetness come between her thighs, slicking her cunt. _Good cub,_ Cersei purrs, _very good, little love._ Sansa’s eyes open wider for a moment but Cersei has covered her lips again, kissing her and Sansa can’t help but move her hips as Cersei slides her tongue in and out of her mouth, Sansa’s soft pink tongue twisting around it. The Queen has slipped out of her smallclothes, her fingers now circling Sansa’s pearl, feeling Sansa pant in pleasure. _ _

__Cersei rubs her golden head against Sansa’s, garnet in the candlelight. _You haven’t even seen your second gift. Do you want to?_ She smiles wickedly even as Sansa nods. _It’s going to hurt little dove-but you like that._ The Queen opens a green silk case- six tiny golden needles each with a tiny golden rose near the eye. _Hmmm._ Cersei makes a great show of examining them, looking up and down Sansa’s body, caressing her pearl _how many do you think we could get there?_ Sansa squeaks, trying not to make extra noise and Cersei laughs. _I can think of a place they would look very pretty--and it would make me very pleased, make me feel very, very good to put them there--I’ll let you if you let me put them there. Would you?_ Cersei looks deeply into Sansa’s eyes, Sansa catching the sparks of emerald burning within, as Cersei slowly strokes the top of Sansa’s breasts--then Sansa nods yes. _Mmmm. Good._ Cersei whispers, taking her golden hair and gliding it across Sansa’s body until she hears audible gasps of pleasure,feels her girl tremble with delight. _Very good.__ _

__Cersei kisses Sansa lightly on the lips. _There are six.Three on each side._ The Queen fixes her girl with a stern green gaze. _You will not cry out. You will not move._ Cersei strokes her trembling cheek. For me, little dove._ _

__The Queen pinches up one spot of flesh atop Sansa’s left breast-- _breathe_ \--pushes the needle through and out with, a tiny drop of blood on Sansa’s pale skin. _Very good, sweetling._ The next one perfectly symmetrical below it, rose on one end, point and drop of blood at the other. Sansa hums softly in her throat, her eyes dilated, deep and blue-black. Cersei smiles. _My little dove likes this, hmmm? Good. I do--and that’s what matters._ brushes her lips gently against Sansa’s forehead. She pinches another bit over Sansa’s left breast-breathe--and pushes the needle in and out, using her finger to strum along the roses, near the eyes. _Mmmm. I’d love to cover your whole sweet body in these--pretty little blood drops to match my pretty dove’s tears_. _Ohhhh_ -Cersei grins-- _there we go. Very pretty tears_. Clear salt droplets run down Sansa’s face and Cersei kisses them away tasting the salt on her tongue, kissing Sansa back so she can taste her own tears, feeling her silent _aaaahhh,_ which is both pain and delight at her Lady’s kiss._ _

__The Queen smiles. _Not done yet, my little love. So very, very pretty. Want you to be perfect._ She slides over to Sansa’s other side, caressing her cheek, giving a little tug to the chain of roses holding her breasts high and proud, Sansa’s nipples a deep rose. The Queen gives a soft kiss to Sansa’s cheek. _Harder now-don’t want to be easy on you. Sansa whispers something. _

__Yes little dove? Flying, think I’m flying, Your Grace._ Cersei smiles. _Of course you are-- your Lady’s here._ Growling low in her throat, Cersei takes the first needle, pinches, slides it through, feels Sansa’s back arch but she doesn’t cry out good little dove, good--then the second, piercing sweetly through with a drop of blood like a perfect ruby, which Cersei dabs up with a finger, touches it to her lips and kisses Sansa. _Tears and blood and my little dove--my favorites._ Purring, the Queen takes the last needle, pinches and with no warning slides it through and out, feeling Sansa’s body shake, but not a cry. _

_The Queen strums up and down the left and the right, along the eyes of the needles. _Good, sweet, good girl_. Sansa opens her eyes, smiling dizzily. _Your Grace, my love, Your Grace, yours,_ she whispers, so bright Cersei feels like there is a light shining from the pale girl’s inmost heart--and it is a treasure she will fight to the death to protect. _Yes, my cub,_ she whispers. _Yes,_ nuzzling her head against Sansa’s. _Such a good girl, my little love has been so brave she’s earned a treat...__

_All Sansa can feel is golden hair snaking down her belly then her Lady’s lips, licking at her petals, Cersei’s tongue sliding tenderly in and out of her then harder, almost too overcome to cry out to make any noise, then feels her Lady nibbling around her pearl-- _dear dear gods the way her Ser does_ \--fingers rubbing and it’s then Sansa lets everything go in a deep shuddering sigh, coming harder and harder until her eyes flutter closed._

_Cersei smiles, tonguing at her own lips, folding a spare blanket to tuck under Sansa’s thighs-apparently her little dove has become adept at certain things. She strokes Sansa’s face, till her eyes open, bright dizzied, sweet._

__Oh, my Lady, my Lady, thank you Your Grace, thank you_ \--and all the misery of Highgarden has melted away from the brilliance of the look in her little dove’s eyes. Cersei kisses her little dove slowly, making sure Sansa tastes herself on Cersei’s tongue. _Such a sweet little dove, so well done. Your Lady is very proud of you._ Cersei smiles, holding Sansa’s hand stroking her hair. _

__Can you do one more hard thing for me, my little love, my sweetling?_ Cersei smiles even though she knows what the answer will be. _Yes, my Lady_ whispers Sansa, her eyes blinking, half-sleepy, overcome. _Good._ Cersei whispers--she slides out each needle, only the smallest of gasps from each, dabs at each with the clear liquor--Sansa makes faces (Cersei turns her face into her hair so as not to smile-- _oh Jaime my love you were right_ \--) --then unclamps Sansa’s nipples, hearing the sudden shock of pain and bliss that comes from Sansa’s throat. Cersei knows how much it stings---and it makes her smile to see Sansa struggling to not make noise. She puts away the clamps and the needles, leaving them for her little needleworker._

__On your stomach, sweetling._ Sansa turns over--the Queen straddles her,picking up the dagger from the bedside table, dabbing the skin with the clear liquor. _Don’t move, little dove. Or else._ Cersei grins fiercely even though Sansa cannot see.  
She scratches CL-then thinks for a moment, scratches more in swirling strokes, dabbing it back with the liquor, pressing the blood to her lips, reddening them, rolling Sansa back over--then pricking her own finger with the dagger. _Open._ Cersei touches her fingertip to Sansa’s tongue, leaving bright red droplets, then kissing her, tonguing, each of them tasting the others sweetness and blood. _I’m inside you too my little dove. Always, always my sweet cub_ Sansa kisses her Queen fiercely. The Queen doesn’t stop her as she moves down her belly to kiss tenderly at her Lady’s petals, move her skilled tongue around her pearl and Cersei’s the one who almost cries out, having to bite at her own hand as her skilled darling brings her over and over again, Cersei’s hands pulling at her hair until Cersei’s the one that has to pull her back up for kisses, tasting herself on her girl’s tongue feeling herself shudder hard one more time in her beloved girl’s arms. _So happy, my Lady, so happy_ Sansa whispers, nestling into her lover’s own arms. _Love you, your Grace, for always.__

_Holding Sansa’s head to her chest, Cersei has to hide her face in her golden waves of hair for a moment so Sansa does not see her eyes water but instead kisses her fiercely as if she will never let her go even though both of them know Cersei leaves for Dorne in the morning, that she needed one night with her girl, one night with her lovers._

__Drink this_ Cersei whispers, holding water, then a small bottle to Sansa’s lips. _No tears in the morning--want you to wake happy. Your Lady will be back with you soon._ Sansa rubs her head against Cersei’s gold and ruby dizzyingly lovely as Cersei blows out the candle, the hearthfire burns. _Goodnight my little dove. Goodnight my cub._ Cersei strokes at her hair. Before the milk of the poppy washes her to sleep Sansa thinks she hears _Goodnight-your Lady loves you__ -the wolf-girl smiles. Sansa knew that in the silent places in her heart but the words make her glow like a lantern even as she dreams in her Lady’s arms, hours before her Queen must depart.  
***  
In the lavender-and-spice scented room, before dawn, Ser Jaime Lannister slips into his lovers’ bed, curls up next to their wolf-girl, their precious cub. Sansa sighs, turning over and nuzzling her Ser’s chest. Ser Jaime notices the tiny gold and ruby ring that Cersei slipped onto Sansa’s pinky with a kiss before the journey, knows that even though it won’t make their little girl not cry, it will remind her that her Lady will come back. As Sansa rolls onto her stomach, in the half light he catches sight of her shoulder. Reading he smiles deeply: **CL.** and in script **beloved**. He dreams of both of them in their lioness’ golden light, holding both his lovers on a future morning, kisses his little love and nestles up with her as the sun begins to rise.  
***  
As the journey begins the Queen drowses; it will be a long day and she is entitled to her rest. She drowses, sinking into rest at the thought of both her lovers beside her, her brother and their sweet cub nesting together, warm, at peace.  
If anyone was looking, they might have seen the ghost of a smile cross the Queen’s lips. But no one dares look--so it is much hers as the blood in her veins, her pulsing heart, the taste of her loves still in her mouth. 


	29. Before Dawn (SerxLady)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lions.
> 
> Sleep.
> 
> Dreams.

_My sister, my love, my sweetest queen are you pleased?_  
They are together in the firelight, her legs wrapped around his hips as she sighs blissfully sliding smoothly, gently on his cock.There is no playful fight this time, but a smooth, beautiful joining, forehead to forehead, eyes gazing into each others, sharing breath, slow slow thrusts, slow clenches of her golden cunt around him.

She looks into the green eyes that mirror her own, slowly, deeply ecstatic. _Ah, my love. My love._ Cersei whispers to him, wrapping her legs tighter, the gold of her ankle bracelets gleaming as she moves slowly, groans softly. _Oh yes._ she whispers into his ear. _Very, very pleased. You’ve done so well, my dearest brother, my sweetest_ then the silk of her tongue against his skin, sharp teeth on his nipple. _You must be very fond of my little dove. Fond of our sweet little cub_. Cersei smiles, whispering into his ear. _Doesn’t she have the prettiest screams, the sweetest lips, the loveliest tears and most delactable cunt?_ Cersei growls. _I can’t wait to have my hand inside her. Isn’t it nice that girls have so many maidenheads to be taken?_ Cersei laughs softly, trying to remain as quiet as the fire, growing slicker opening for her love. Ser Jaime thrusts growling back. _Most beautiful thing I can imagine in this world--aside from being inside you just like this._ _Mmmmm. Yes, just like that. You know I love the way you tighten around my cock, my precious love, my beautiful sister._  
She claws at his back, leaving deep red gashes. _Shhhh._ she says eyes twinkling _shhh._ _We don’t want to wake her. Yet._ Ser Jaime’s eyes twinkle back. _Of course_ as he fucks at her harder, sinking his teeth into her shoulder where she can only hiss softly, as soft as the fire, her cunt squeezing at his cock. She’s fucking back harder now her arms around his neck hers around her waist. _Yes my love, my Jaime oh yes fuck me harder,_ she whispers furiously into his ear. _Bruise me. Bruise me so hard inside I’m still aching when I get to Dorne. Shhh._

 _Give me your teeth,my love, my Cersei we both love that._ Jaime licks at her shoulder. _If I bite harder, you bleed too, my queen. Hurt me my sister. Yes_ she murmurs. _yes, yes,_ running her tongue over her sharp white teeth, fingers turning to strokes. _Bleed me, my brother, my sweetest love. Hurt me too._ Her toes curl in pleasure. _Yes my love yes._

Ser Jaime growls softly and bites at her again, gnawing, shaking at her, furiously kissing her, tasting copper, with her taste still on his lips. _Ahhh_ Cersei whispers sinking her teeth into his arm as he gasps, sudden shock and then she’s smiling up at him, teeth lightly reddened his skin pierced, _perfect._

They kiss furiously their tongues winding together as Ser Jaime pushes her to the floor and Cersei wraps her legs around him harder, digging in her heels, knowing he’ll have marks for days, feeling him bruise her from within. _Harder_ she whispers _harder,_ wanting to scream with joy but whispering _oh my Jaime. My love._ _My love, my love_ they murmur together and he’s shaking and so is she-their mouths taste of each other’s blood and kisses, inside each other, wrapped close inside but _quiet don’t wake the girl._

As Cersei starts to come she shoves her hand over her brother’s mouth and smoothly he does the same for her, both gazing into each other’s eyes as she spasms, his hand vibrating from her scream and as he comes, slamming into her cunt hard, pouring himself into her she feels his breath roaring against her palm. She looks into his eyes and it is swimming in deep green waters and as he looks in hers, the burning perfect green of wildfire. 

When they can breathe, they rub their golden heads against each other, sighing, flicking tongues at any skin they can reach, nuzzling each other. _Perfect_ they both exhale softly and Cersei and Jaime lie in front of the fire, slick, gleaming shining gold. She tucks her head below his and there is no need for any word; they already know what it is.

***  
After they have held each other-it’s a terrible risk, but they curl up on either side of their wolf-girl, arms crossed and twining around her, the warm music of breath around them as Sansa sleeps in her poppy dreams, rubbing their heads against hers, rubies and gold. Cersei shudders softly quietly and lays a kiss on her brother’s lips then on her little dove's and Ser Jaime kisses locks of golden hair then red. It won’t be long, but an hour before sunrise is enough to feel safe and warm, their tiny pride together in perfect safety for minutes, but perfect ones.  
As they lie drowsing, the golden twins think of each other, then dream of Sansa falling asleep in their arms, the way she snuggles, their little cub and they will not let her go no more than they would dream of letting each other go.


	30. Shine (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boots.  
> Playtime.  
> Sansa works hard.  
> Ser Jaime rests.

Sansa has been lying in a sunbeam on her scarlet cushion, watching the dust motes dance in the golden light,rolled over to feel its warmth on her belly.  
Her Ser scratches words on parchment,shakes sand on it with an elegant flick of his wrist, then looks at another with a raised eyebrow (mirroring her Lady) and wears a look that were it on Sansa’s face could be described as petulant. He looks up and glances at his cub, lying on her back, her red and gold leather ball in her mouth and smiles, the sunlight glinting in his golden hair. He frowns, Sansa noticing that his frustration with a bit of anger-not at her, clearly the letters. Sansa is quickly angered that they have upset her Ser.  
Sansa catches his eye, the blue sparks in hers bright as bubbles in sparkling wine, crawls over, pushing her red and gold leather ball to him with her nose, just as she knows he likes-and she does too.

She’s rewarded with a smile. _Why, my pretty little wolf--does my girl want to play?_ He scratches her behind the ears and she growls softly with pleasure at his hand in her hair, his fingers tugging at her gold chain. She looks at the ball and back up.

Ser Jaime’s smile is sharp and fanged, wicked, which makes her shiver inside, a delicious bit of fear twisted into her pleasure-the reminder that he’s not a tame lion, never will be and that she is smaller, tender, even delicious.

He picks up the ball and puts it on the table.

_You want to play, little wolf. So do I._

_Kneel._

Sansa kneels, feeling her heart flutter inside. _Good wolf-girl. Open up._  
She opens her legs, Ser Jaime stroking at her cunt with a fingertip. _Very nice-wet already._  
He sharply slides in one than another-then smiling, wiping them deliberately across her face, leaving a soft, damp streak.

 _I know my cub doesn’t mind a bit of mess. After all, she’s got such a nice tongue for it._ Smiling sharply he puts out his fingers. _Clean._ She licks them, taking his fingers into her mouth tasting her own musky sweetness, the salt of his skin, breathing in the spices and honey of her Ser’s own scent. Good girl. Sweet, sweet little bitch. He rumbles low in his throat with pleasure, then looks into her eyes.

 _Hmmm. It seems to me that I haven’t let you since yesterday._ Sansa’s eyes open.  
Her Ser smiles. _Eager, aren’t we?_ He slides back into his chair, Sansa still on the floor, feeling excited and at the same time concerned.  
Ser Jaime growls. _I do know my little cub can’t stand it when I don’t let her-even let her have a nice mouthful of her favorite treat this morning and didn’t let her. Such pitiful pretty eyes--can’t even come after a nice swallow of my seed--even nicer than lemoncakes, hmm?_ Sansa breathes heavily, making soft noises in her throat, feeling wetness slip slowly along the top of her thigh.

His eyes are on hers, cold emerald, unwavering. _My way, wolf-girl. Mine._

Ser Jaime uncrosses his legs, extending them out taking extra care to flex so Sansa notices his shining, high black boots. To the knee-and she weakens.  
_Ah,_ he murmurs. _These. You like these._ His voice drops to a whisper. _I know you like the taste-from top to sole._ He laughs as Sansa blushes, feeling her cunt dampen, her mouth water.

 _So, my wolf-girl wants a game, does she?_  
he murmurs. _I certainly need something to make me feel better._

_I do recall that naughty wolf pups have certain things they like._ _Things they get scolded for in polite company...and you like at least one thing involved in that._ Ser Jaime laughs. _How fortunate for you, sweet little wolf-bitch._

Sansa looks at his boots, her eyes huge again, her mouth dry. _So hard isn’t it?_ He slowly, menacingly whispers _you are so pretty, but that’s not going to save you today._ Ser Jaime laugs wickedly _it’s so hard for you to act like a real little wolf-bitch sometimes-no, always. If they could, your ears would be drooping now._

He growls _but you want to so badly don’t you? I can tell how hungry your little cunt is right now--and I know you’re getting wetter right now even though you can’t say it._ He rumples her hair, scratching softly. _I’ll make you scream it one day. One day._  
Sansa moans whispering _Ser..._  
His eyes are suddenly green flint.  
_I didn’t say you could speak, whelp._  
He whispers softly _I know you like being a cub-my little cub, even my little wolf girl. I know this is hard._

Ser Jaime grins wickedly. _I know you don’t like this. But I do. Very much._

 _It's not always going to be easy for you, little love. I won't let it be-but know you are mine._ He whispers.  
_I love it best when you show me._

 He growls _You’re here to make your Ser happy. And I’m not so cruel, am I?_ He extends his hand and Sansa crawls to touch it with the tip of her tongue. _Good girl. Very good. Sweet little one._  
She licks harder. _I know you wish that was my cock. He smiles sweetly. You may still get a taste-if you can come the way a bad little wolf-bitch does._

He growls as Sansa’s face grows pale, then red, then pale again.  
_My. You’ll do so many things but this makes you struggle. So hard, little one._  
Ser Jaime whispers _you like my boots--these nice shiny black ones that you’ve kissed and licked till they shine, don’t you, hmmm?_  
Sansa nods yes. _You are a little beast with a hungry cunt--act like it. I promise I’ll be very amused._  
Ser Jaime grins. _I might even smile. Or laugh._

Sansa’s mouth is dry and if she had speech she could beg, but she can’t (and she’s still wet, terrified but wet.) She looks pleadingly at her Ser.

 _Shy. Oh well--fortunately I have the other men to spend  time with for the next couple evenings. I haven’t played cards in...hmm. Forever. Good for morale.  And I do have other ways of tending to myself--not as sweet as wolf-girl cunt or mouth_ or, he chuckles as Sansa blushes brightly _even between pretty wolf-girl tits. However, I can manage._ He smiles again, cruelly, not breaking his hold on her eyes. _No, you wouldn’t get to watch._ observing as her face falls.

 _And your treat would be wasted. None in your pretty mouth at all-or on your tongue--or even in a sock for you to chase after._ Sansa is red as a beet, gasping, Ser Jaime smiling. _You know you would. So do I._

 _Such a quandary._ Ser Jaime smiles, flexing the toe of his boot back and forth. _But doesn’t my little girl feel restless...? A little bit of an itch that my wolf-girl can’t scratch?_

 _You can do it_ he whispers. _You will do it._  
_Because it pleases me._  
_Because you are mine._  
_I have a glass of fine wine here. I want to drink and I want to watch my little whelp, my pretty wolf bitch hump my leg until she comes._ He growls. _Just like the wolf-bitch she is._

Sansa yowls, hair standing up on all her skin. _That won’t work, little cub._ he growls back, snarling from his chair. _You know you will. You want to. Your whole body wants it. You can do it pretty little bitch-back up just a bit and spread. No hands, no words. Just you._ He slides forward just a bit, extending his leg further. _Crawl back. My boot’s here._ He grins, luminous, bright.  
_All ready for a nice ride for my pretty bitch. Come on, that’s a good girl...my dirty girl with such a hungry cunt._

Sansa does, blushing, fighting back tears, spreading her legs as she settles over his boot, against his leg. Ser Jaime smiles. _Very good-and that pink looks so lovely spread against my boot leather. Such a sweet cunt my wolf-bitch has._ Sansa moans, feeling herself slip on the leather as he smiles.

_Prettiest sight in all of the seven, too. I’m a very fortunate man._

Ser Jaime takes a sip of his wine, savoring the view.

 _Rub._  
Sansa blushes, starts rubbing slowly, her pearl and cunt tingling, still slower, still shy.

 _Oh, my sweet little wolf-bitch you can do harder than that. I know I’ve seen you rub and grind so hard your pretty breasts bounce._ His eyes sparkle as Sansa blushes again, her pale skin mottled with red.  
  _You like that your Ser’s watching you do this; I can see how slippery and wet you’re making my boot right now. Such a wet little cunt my bitch has.  That’s right...right over your Ser’s boot. Up against my leg little bitch, that’s right. Good girl, your Ser is so happy watching you hump his boot. Mmmmm._

Sansa gasps and moans as Ser Jaime smiles, taking another sip, visibly enjoying her. _Harder, good little wolf, that’s right. Look at how hard you can you can do that-such a filthy little bitch that you’ll fuck against your Ser’s boots so you can come. Pretty dirty girl, your Ser loves it._  
He smiles. _Harder, I want to feel you work for it. Till you sweat. I’m watching you._ Ser Jaime whispers _and I’m nice and hard too-I love seeing what my little bitch does she can come for her Ser. Go on._ He grins. _Hard._

Sansa groans, pushes, thrusts back. _Harder, whelp._ He growls. _Put on a good show for me, show me what a dirty bitch you are._ She gasps, yelping low in her throat, making small yips as she thrusts back and forth, rubbing her pearl over the slick black boot leather, suddenly only slick and burning and hot unable to think of anything but how good it feels, mixed with knowing his eyes are on her, her lips, pearl, cunt against his boot. 

Sansa can’t help it but shoves harder, whimpering, finally howling as she feels her fluids slick the leather, fucking back hard. tears still in her eyes.

 _Good girl,_ her Ser whispers, _you’re doing so well._ He grins, slowly stroking his cock over his clothes as he drinks. _If we were in a brothel-_ Sansa yelps-- _you’d be slipping on coins right now, men hungry for my little wolf bitch, so hard at watching her fuck herself on my boot whispering even though my girl’s lucky enough to get my cock too._ He purrs as Sansa howls again, his boot slick, moving the toe to bump at her pearl, adoring her sharp little yips and gasps. He whispers. _There’s other things they do to girl bitches there_ \--he laughs-- _but I’ll save that for later_ \--Ser Jaime whispers-- _for when my whelp needs a good scare._ Sansa quivers, fucking harder. _Mmmm. Good girl, you’re being so very, very good. Your Ser’s proud of you for being such a dirty little slut for him._ Sansa sighs, her hair clinging to her face from sweat, so close, her legs and cunt still clutched over the black leather. 

_Ser Jaime smiles, watching her. _Mmm. So pretty-I can just see the black getting shinier from your pretty cunt-you’re so wet, little bitch. Hmm. You’re so close, little one._  
He smiles sweetly, gently, the afternoon sunlight making his every look, each word seem sweet and honeyed. _Poor little girl. Would you like your Ser to help you with that?_ Sansa nods, luxuriating in such sweet glances from his gleaming emerald eyes. _

__Oh, you would, pretty little bitch?_ Ser Jaime grins, sharply and Sansa feels a sudden shiver. _Hmm._ He adjusts, Sansa suddenly feeling his leg shift so her pearl is right at the toe of his boot. _Ride, pretty girl. Show me._  
Ser Jaime laughs as with tears and soft slippery cunt Sansa wriggles, yelping, shamed, delighted. _

__Hump my leg, little wolf-bitch-just like you’re working on my cock. Push hard, there that’s it. Good. Good girl. So pretty to watch. I don’t even have to do anything--just enjoy my wine.Frigging my boot like a little bitch in heat. Mmmm._ He smiles. _Faster and harder before I change my mind--and I like those little yips and barks. More._ He growls. _

_Before I change my mind._

Sansa flings herself back, pushing against the toe of her Ser’s boot,rubbing herself against it, against her every desire yelping, howling, weeping at how much she likes it, hearing her Ser gasp with delight, intent on her. _Good girl. So wet, so slippery. I know you wish this was cock, but you’re doing so well. My little whelp’s going to come all over my boots-from humping her master’s leg, just as she should, pretty little bitch. My wolf-bitch._ He purrs as Sansa pants, so close, each breath hot and hard as she rubs and fucks. 

_Ser Jaime smiles, Sansa knowing he’s stroking himself harder, whispering to her:_

_Your pearl’s so hot you’ll burn right through that leather.  Come for your Ser my loveliest of bitches, show me what a little beast you are, already so wet that’s my darling little whore, yes, yes my own wolf-bitch come for your Ser--there, there..._ Sansa howls, feeling herself explode, all the slickness and wet suddenly below her and above her hearing her Ser clap his hands. _Such a good show, such a beautiful, dirty little wolf-bitch._ Sansa shivers at the applause, her body still trembling-then she feels her Ser’s hand on her head, stroking as she relaxes into it.

_Good little girl-such a good little girl, that was lovely.  Come here._ Ser moves his boot so Sansa can slip off. _My sweetest cub. Put your head up here._

_She rests her head on Ser Jaime’s knee as he strokes her. _I’m very, very proud of you, my perfect little cub. Kisses for your Ser._ She licks at his face and lips, feeling him smile. Then his hands are in her hair pushing her into his lap. _My good girl’s going to get her treat, my little love, there you go_ and Sansa opens up her mouth to feel her Ser’s cock slip in, knowing to let him fuck, guiding her head with her hair _my good girl, my little princess open up..._ with a groan, Ser Jaime can’t help it but pours himself into her mouth more with each thrust, feeling her swallow each drop, then _\--ahhh-_ shuddering hard one extra time, feeling her tongue slide against him, laving him clean. _Mmmm, oh my best of all girls. My good wolf-girl. You’ve made your Ser so happy._ Sansa looks up and he’s smiling down at her, pulling her up for a kiss. _My wonderful perfect little cub. Mine._ He clings to her hair, kissing her, intoxicated at tasting himself on her tongue. _There._ he grins. _Now my little cub has her treat, nice and warm in her belly and she’s come, so much better. Aren’t you a happier little girl now?_  
Sansa nods yes as her Ser smiles. _Good._ Sansa lies at his boots, panting as he strokes her. _One more thing for you, little love.__

_You’ve made my boots sticky. Now that you feel better-get down-clean them up with your pretty little tongue._ Sansa licks and licks till they are clean, then lays soft kisses on each instep, all of her senses full of her Ser. She sighs in pleasure and so does Ser Jaime, opening his arms for her.  
_Come up here. Let Ser kiss away those little tears, you did so well. Yes, my sweetest little cub my princess my little love._ Sansa melts into his arms, snuggling her head against his chest.  
He does--kisses away the little tear streaks, wipes at her face with a cloth dipped in rosewater, between her legs with a clean towel, scoops her up into bed and lies warm against her,rubbing his golden head against her scarlet one.  _Sweet little love he whispers, my perfect little girl, my princess_ _Love you my Ser_ Sansa whispers, snuggling closer into his arms  
_and I love you, my little cub_ Ser Jaime whispers in her ear and he’s the one that can’t help but close his eyes just as she does.  
 The lion and his little cub drowse together in the warm afternoon, sated, but as they sleep, dreaming of pleasures to come as outside the sun beats down, warm as the desert, warm as a beast’s blood.


	31. Interlude: Bad Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wakes.  
> Ser tells a story.  
> My Lady sleeps.

Sansa awakes in his arms yelling, Ser Jaime Lannister having to hold her tightly, to calm her down, remind her where she is.  
 _It’s all right wolf-girl_ he whispers, _it’s all right._ He hums softly to her, strokes her auburn hair, holds her hands together as she likes. _It’s all right_ he whispers, _your Ser is here. Shhh._  
Sansa nuzzles her head into his chest, shaking. _Is Lady...?_

 _She’s fine_ whispers Ser Jaime. _If anything happened, I’d know._ He rubs his head against hers, sharing her breath, softly, nuzzling. _The worst thing possible is that she’s been at a very boring dinner. Or cranky because they don’t have that soap she likes in Dorne._ He smiles, kissing one eyelid, then the other. _I do know that she’s missing our little cub._ In the half-darkness, Sansa catches his emerald eyes glinting, white teeth smiling. _Here little cub, curl up with your Ser._ He strokes her along the body, hands over curves and chains, strong, for the moment gentle.  
 _We’re together._ he whispers in the curved shell of her ear, in the cloud of her auburn hair, rubbing his body softly against hers. _We won’t leave each other. Not you Ser?_  
 _No. Never_  
 _Tell me a story_ Sansa whispers, curling up tighter in his arms. Ser Jaime groans inwardly; Cersei is the one who does this, the one who read to him, the one who could take stories from books and make them dance to her tune as she did everything else but for his little cub, he’ll try. _Once upon a time,_ he whispers t _here was a beautiful princess all alone in a castle where everything was stone and ice and not a ray of sunlight. She was very lonely._  
She snuggles closer making soft sighs in his arms rubbing. _She wished very hard and then one day-the Queen-but even more exciting, her brother-- devastatingly handsome, terribly clever and legendary at all arts of war--_ Sansa giggles in the dark and then he laughs too, warm rumbling in his chest. (She likes feeling it, like she likes to hear his heartbeat against her ear.) _And the Queen was very good too. Looked lovely in her fancy dresses._  
Sansa can’t hold back but laughs hard as does he. He sighs. _Actually, she was also devastatingly beautiful and clever and she saw the most glorious little wolf-girl, showed her brother-and they were smitten._  
He nibbles her ear, feeling her smile though her body.  
 _And they saw her sweetness and cleverness_ Ser Jaime continues _and beauty_ mumbles Sansa _And beauty_ adds Ser Jaime, rubbing his head against hers, feeling her breathe easily. _They could not leave her behind and so the Queen scooped her up and brought her to a...much nicer, warmer castle with infinitely more comfortable bedrooms.And much better food._ Sansa yawns and puts her head on his chest, where he feels her soft breath against his skin, letting out a sigh of pleasure.

 _The Queen and her brother kept their wolf-girl and_ ...he thinks... _everything worked out and they were never parted forever. It’s a very good ending._ _And_ -he nips at Sansa’s ear-- _their wolf-girl who wanted stories went back to sleep and they went on the picnic instead of her Ser having to sleep all day from being up telling stories to little cubs._

He smiles, his teeth gleaming whitely in the pale dawn but Sansa’s already asleep, her wine-red hair poured across his chest, her breast rising and falling softly. 

It is a good ending. Ser Jaime doesn’t know how they will get from here to there, but he won’t tell her that. _We all will, wolf-girl. Promise._ he whispers in her ear, hoping it works its way into her dreams. Ser Jaime falls asleep, accepting that his arm will just be asleep in the morning due to the weight of his sweet cub on it. For a moment before his emerald eyes close he feels something in his chest, fluttering and light.

Somewhere far away in Dorne, Cersei is watching the sky form her window, pacing, the frustration and anger of a caged beast. She unwraps her robe and sits on the bed and watches the sky crack into lavender and pink shards, feels a soft brush on her temples like wings, knows somehow it’s safe to lie down. Cersei puts one bolster to her left, one to the right, just so as she does each night.  
She moves them every morning, smooths the sheets to make it look as if they were never even there. It’s hers. The Queen lies down far away from home between her pillows. She thinks of water and rock and gold, the smell of salt and hands on either side of hers. Before she can say to herself _it’s only a godsdamned dream_ , her face softens and she finally sleeps too, as if a cool breeze has dulled her fever, her pain. Outside the sun rises, pure brightness, pure gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not. It's a naughty picnic. Sorry for the delay, more soon.


	32. Little Frenzy (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Jaime returns.
> 
> Sansa knows.
> 
> Bonds.

It is late afternoon and Sansa is tidying, her skin pale cream, her chains silver. Ser Jaime had looked at her early in the morning, declaring that she was not to be hindered by clothes, pulled her to him. After that, instead of breakfast he had had to run to the tourney field immediately, almost late-but not. She’s folded things and has saved her favorite spot for last.

Her Ser has a fondness for gloves; Sansa knows the small chest they are kept, knows to keep them well, a smudge of oil here and there, some of them with nibble marks on the fingers and other scrapes. Sansa too, has a fondness for gloves. She breathes in the scent of the leather, quivering with delight. She loves smoothing them on his hands in the morning, the feel of the leather in her hair, her mouth, her elegant hand clasped between his, his gloves warming it. She closes the chest to see to her last task.

There’s a pair on the table, which Sansa dabs with oil, rubs to keep them supple, tenderly, softly as if she were touching her Ser’s hands themselves. They’re black, softened from years of use and Sansa rubs them against her cheek, the texture a pleasure itself and before she can think, Sansa has stood up and slipped one on, then the other. Letting her mind drift, she caresses her breasts, pale, pink nipples hardening at the touch of her own hands like Ser’s but he’s touched her just like this. Sansa sighs sweetly, touching the places he knows she likes, along her ear, the back of the neck, the small of her back and hips, even taking a moment to rest a hand on her neck and quiver. Running her hands over her own curves and tender places she closes her eyes, imagining her Ser’s hand on her, a leather strap for her hands, his emerald eyes gazing into hers as he restrains her, standing behind her, her heart pounding him growling filthy, delicious words into her ear. Sansa sighs with delight at the thought, tingling.

 _Oh don’t let me stop you, wolf-girl._ growls Ser Jaime. Sansa’s hands slide out of the gloves which fall to the floor, her eyes open, then downcast, guilty. He walks across the room,hair golden, glowing in the setting sunlight, stalking like a beautiful cat (and Sansa’s shivering inside, she know’s he’s been training, fighting, showing some of the new squires what to do so they don’t wind up gutted their first melee).  
His golden hair is rumpled, damp in places, his shirt with a large cut on the sleeve and a small tear at the hip wet in places from sweat, a few traces of blood, scratches on his face-she can smell the metal, the dirt of the field, musk, sweat, the tang of blood and while she’s breathing in he’s right behind her, hand on her throat. Sansa shivers and goes limp beneath it, dirt and blood and leather as he pulls her to him. She looks over her shoulder and his eyes are wildfire green and frenzied.

 _Didn’t say you could turn around, my cub l, did I?_ Ser Jaime has her pulled against him, tightening his grip on her throat, the chestnut leather with its own perfume with dirt, metal and oh, his own spiciness that is making her weaker in the knees. _Mmmm. You’ve learned to go limp. Such a good little girl._ His other hand plays roughly with her nipples. _Such a nice thing for prey to do. It might give you a few extra minutes._ He growls low in her ear, thrusts obscenely against her rear, hard then slowly, savoring it, one hand rubbing low at her belly. _You are showing belly though, little cub. You know your place. Good._

_Lowest_ Ser Sansa whispers her heart thumping as his gloved hand works through the soft bit of red fur between her legs, giving her throat a quick little squeeze before relaxing his grip, still holding her at the throat. _That’s right._ Ser Jaime growls. _Mine._ He snarls at her. _It’s my little cub’s job to keep me happy. And this would make me very happy._  
He snarls, biting at her. _Open._ Sansa’s legs part.  
He thrusts two fingers into her, hard and sharp, and she yelps just a little bit. _Oh, did that hurt wolf-girl?_ Ser Jaime bites hard at her neck as she slides against him, slack and chained and helpless then thrusts in again, sharper and she yelps. _Good. My cub makes such pretty noises._ He puts his fingers to her lips. _Suck. Clean them up._ Sansa’s mouth opens taking his fingers in, tonguing at the leather, her sensitive tongue feeling the grain tasting at the sharp mix of tastes-metal, the viridian green of grass, coppery thread of blood and her own musky sweetness, mixed with the leather and her Ser’s own.  
She sucks and licks, flutters her eyes and starts to work more till he slides them out quickly, wiping them on her hair. Sansa is breathing faster and so is he, rough and sweet. _Save your tongue, cub_ he growls, stripping off his clothes, while sitting on the bed, jade-green eyes fixed on Sansa, feeling hot as flame on her skin, _I’ve got a job for you._ He does it slowly, letting her watch--his skin marked violet with bruises,ree scrapes, dirt, smudges marking the muscles along his arms. Sansa wonders if she’s done something wrong, he isn’t having her undress him. Catching her eye he shakes his head no. Something else, and his grin is white, sharp and wicked. When he’s is nude and stretched out on the bed, he slaps the space beside him. _Up_.--and up she crawls. _Here, little cub. Here._ He whispers _crawl to your Ser_ Shivering with pleasure she does. He unhooks her chains. _You’ll need to be able to move he grins._ Ser Jaime looks up at her hungrily, smiling as if ready to pounce, then stretches out nude, indolently, stretching. _Ahhhh._ He smiles at her, bright and sweet as white blades. 

_You’re going to make me happy, little cub_ he growls. _You’re going to lick me clean.My body, anywhere I want, till I tell you to stop_ Sansa turns red then white then red as Ser Jaime laughs, uncrossing his legs so she can see how hard he is.  
_Little cubs like licking_ then whispers _little bitches do too, don’t they?_ He sighs in pleasure watching Sansa’s face turn red, her body blush 

_No one else who fought today has a pretty little cub, his own sweet girl licking him clean. _He smiles again, tousling her red hair. _I know I’m the luckiest man there._ Sansa sighs deeply, shuddering. _There’s a little blood from me_ he growls softly but you don’t mind that. In fact you seem to like it._ Sansa gasps, feeling her cunt clench, grown suddenly shamefully wet. _You wouldn’t even mind if there was a bit that wasn’t._ Sansa groans softly, blushing hot starting to bend down lower, halting just a little to lick _good girl,sweet little cub, put out your tongue, clean up your Ser, fought so hard to get back to his little cub_ and Sansa finally presses down her head and starts to lick the length of his arm. _ Good girl. purrs Ser Jaime. _You look so pretty like that, even pretty with a bit of dirt on your face. Isn’t it nice that I-we- like that?_ Sansa dips her head. _Oh, is my little cub the littlest bit embarrassed?_ He grins. _Good. Over my shoulder, please, good girl. Use that sweet tongue well._

Sansa licks and licks slowly feeling herself fall into a rhythm, slow wide, sweeps of tongue, intoxicated-he tastes of salt and metal and yes, dirt and blood, tiny bit of grit making her shiver more as she licks, savoring his tastes on her tongue, trembling. _Mmmm. I must be one of your favorite treats you’re so intent on licking me--nicer than summerwine, little cub? Don’t talk with your mouth full--oh wait, little cubs can’t talk. Ah well._  
Sansa’s face flushes hard as she licks, dragging her tongue slowly across his chest her mouth full of copper and salt, underneath it all, his spicy scent, muskier, hotter more feral right now, she can tell when he’s been fighting from his smell now and oh, she wriggles her hips as she licks, the tip of her tongue circling one nipple, gently touching. _Lick_ Ser Jaime adds sternly, then teasingly _not time for that yet, little girl._ She moves on using the flat of her tongue to lick smooth and wide till everything is salt and spice and the feel of her Ser’s skin under her tongue. As she works lower she hears him groan with pleasure. _Don't you dare tickle, wolf-girl_ she hears as if from far away and she gently kisses at the large scrape on his hip, then laves it with her tongue , sighing in pleasure at the kisses, the taste, lick after lick, _i am a little animal_ she thinks and feels another flush of wetness at her cunt as her mouth is all salt and copper and spice. She feels a surge of joy, licks harder. 

Ser Jaime hasn’t felt this pleased after a fight in a long time; the soft sweep of her, hair, her soft little groans and signs of pleasure, watching her become his sweet little creature, seeing his skin freshly damp from her tongue, passing her the cup of water every now and then from the bedside table-she needs to stay nice and wet after all. He grins as she moves down along his legs _yesss, good little cub, my good little wolf so very very good_ and as she starts to reach his thighs, Ser Jaime has given up on words as well from her soft tongue, grinding his hips as she comes closer to his cock. She hesitates for a moment and with a groan, he brings her mouth to him and she has him inside her warm and wet and slick.  
Ser Jaime growls low in his throat, hard as he starts to thrust into his cub’s mouth, feral, hungry, his blood hot and boiling again as it had been on the field _yessssss_ he wants to say but it comes out in harsh growls and snarls as he moves his hips against her, fucking, feeling the frenzy come on.

Sansa’s growling too, roused by his, licking, taking his cock into her mouth feeling half drunk, her eyes growing brighter, and with a hard thrust she parries taking him into her throat and looking up she snarls back loudly. 

Ser Jaime smiles and grabs at her hair pulling her up into a crushing kiss, tasting the first drops of his seed on her tongue, his own salt and sweat, hers from working, the salt and the sweet musky heated smell of her arousal. Then he bites at her lips snapping at them, hands reaching to claw at her, pushing her onto her back all her soft places exposed to him, neck, breasts, belly, cunt and she puts her hands up, her face smudged with dirt and growling in her throat with a little white teethed smile, then teeth covered, letting her legs and arms fall open. He sees her surrender and that’s all it takes and he claws down her breasts all the way down her belly leaving a trail of five red marks, watching her arch her back as he does, then he’s clawing again, forgetting words as he sees the second set appears hearing her growl with pleasure and a wriggle of her hips, his scratches so bright they look like trails of blood against her milky skin. A few tiny drops fall and Ser Jaime bares his teeth in delight. 

He flings himself on top of her, pinning her down with his weight, eyes locked with hers.

She can feel him pressing her down into the bed-and though she’s pinned, she nips and scratches where she can, playing as he looks down at her little marks stares ravenously and growls hard, thrusting against hersinking his teeth just above her left breast. Sansa almost screams, but it becomes yelps and growls as he worries the flesh, his blonde hair shaking, his eyes afire, hers bright as she’s panting with pleasure, dripping, hotter, hungrier as he cuffs her on the shoulders, getting her to turn over onto her belly. She’s already spreading her legs, growling, raising herself up on her knees, using her fingers to spread the lips of her cunt, eyes blue flame, growling, daring, swiveling her hips pressing herself down into the bed moving her hands forward to sink her head down, looking up to snarl and bare her teeth as she catches his eyes fiery and green and _he’s not tame, not tame at all._ With a hissing growl, he grabs onto Sansa's hips, slides his aching cock into her slick wet cunt hearing her soft little snarls and yelps as he fucks, sinking his nails into her skin pushing in hotter and faster, everything the scent of dirt, blood, sweat, her hot slick cunt and he moves his hands to her shoulders sinking them in so hard she howls, pushing back at him, milking him harder, him almost afraid she’ll squeeze him out. 

Sinking his teeth into the back of her neck, he scruffs her, holding her in place, pinning her hands down, hearing her moan low in her throat as she accepts him growling harshly as he slides in and out of her, the slickness of her cunt hot and sweet and perfect _his cub his_. Ser Jaime bares his teeth biting into her shoulder as he does hard, feeling her rise up to meet him, yelping and hissing and they are beyond all names, two beautiful creatures, growling, sighing, fucking, biting and clawing at each other. 

The taste, the half-moon of marks on her shoulder makes him fuck harder rutting like a beast his eyes blazing catching hers as she looks, then dips her head, squeezing at him as he bites harder into her shoulder, marking her _mine mine mine_ in a haze of blood and sweat and heat and it’s with one deep hard thrust he comes inside her, growling, roaring as he pours his seed into her, feeling her push back to have him in all the way, growling, her clawing tearing a hole in the bed sheet as the last of his seed empties into her. He shudders in pleasure, drained dry, licks at her cheek, rubs his head against hers as she does to him, still inside her not wanting to be out. He notices a drop of blood from one of the bite marks, and as it runs, licking it off her unbroken skin. It is perfect, her blood on his lips, his already on hers from her tireless cleaning, her auburn head nuzzling against his golden one, making such soft sweet little noises, he cannot help but purr and after a moment neither can she. They slide down into each others arms breathing softly, her eyes still bright and he slides his leg just right so she can slide against it, rubbing hot and fast till she leaves him wet and herself sleepy and satisfied. He licks at her cheek, nuzzling and it slowly shifts into a kiss again. _Good little cub, best cub_ he whispers, the words feeling strange in his mouth. _best of all girls_. He’s known it, but she’s theirs now; something’s different.  
He lives for Cersei, but now he lives for Sansa too. His lioness and his little cub, living for them till the day he dies-and if in his death they should live, so be it. **Their pride.** His eyes are salt for a moment till he sees her looking up at him eyes blue and wide. _My little love, my wolf-girl, my cub_ he whispers, words still strange inside his lips. _Mine._  
Sansa’s head is spinning, her body aching, feeling hollow without him inside her, the sudden awareness that were he gone a piece of her heart would die and never grow back, that she and her Lady would both be bereft-she and her Lady  
  
-and she suddenly knows deep inside her without the words to say it that her lions are mated to each other, always have been and now she is too, theirs for life.  
She rubs her head against his, cheek to cheek, lip against lip first exactly as Cersei does to her, then head to head his eyes opening wide for a moment in shock then looking at her, running fingers through her hair. _My lion, my Ser_ , she whispers, running a fingertip along his cheek feeling them ring like a shout even though they are only on a breath into his ear, then a smile that makes her face bright, her eyes like pieces of summer sky, _i am yours as you are mine._ He holds her to him and she clings back, the world too bright for words. He hooks a finger under her gold chain. _Sansa._ he whispers reverently. _Here you are._

Ser Jaime brings over the tea, mixes in extra honey and when she pauses slightly too long before she drinks, eyes blinking he catches her eye, smiles warmly at her dips his head to her belly, bites then bites again, biting and nuzzling until she smiles back, helps her lift the cup, then holds her tight, both of them rubbing their heads against each other, ruby and gold. In silence, he dabs her cuts watching her make faces at the sting, feeds her almond after almond like she’s a bird rather than a wolf girl, then tosses one into his mouth and she laughs, the air rich with sweetness. Her eyes narrow and she tosses an almond at him, getting a little cuff on the shoulder. _Bad girl_ , Ser Jaime smiles _you nearly hit my face. I need that._ He tosses an almond, then misses to have it bounce off her ear. He frowns then smiles at her. _When they sing the song of this_ , he smiles, _make sure to say it was three and I caught each one with my tongue. Shelled them too._ Sansa giggles rubbing her head against his shoulder. _Of course Ser._ she grins. _Am I forgiven for your gloves? Don’t press your luck, wolf-girl. There are a pile of rather dirty clothes here and it’s not time for my little girl to sleep yet._ He grins back tugging at her chain for a kiss. 

_Next time we start with my back._ He grins. _You missed a spot. All of it. However_ \--he stretches-- _I do believe a bath would be most welcome. Would you care to join me wolf-girl?_ _Always Ser_ she smiles rolling his name out like a purr, thinking of warm water, comfort, falling asleep with her Ser’s hair and her own scented with sage and honey. Later that night that’s what happens, Ser Jaime holding her close in her chains, her eyes closed, curled up dreaming. He doesn’t know what they are, but hopes they are sweet. His are, even if he doesn’t remember them when his eyes open to the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> First, thank you for reading and kudos-so glad you are reading and enjoying.  
> For those interested, a playlist of what I like to listen to when I am writing this story; lots of sultry goth medieval, down and dirty grind industrial and pop, a few sensual lovely ballads. There is no specific order. There is no specific correspondence to any story unless I have already mentioned it. I am noting which songs I seem to associate with which characters or groups although much like the twins and their wolf-girl, all lines are blurred. Some are just fun, the unmarked ones just wander through and set moods. If more comes up I may do a second.
> 
> If this type of music isn't your thing, that's fine.
> 
> If you have your own music you like, that's fine.
> 
> Enjoy the story as you wish.
> 
> This is what I've been thinking of and using as this comes along. Thank you again for reading. I'm so glad you are.
> 
> NB: Some videos may be NSFW.
> 
> Game of Thrones Intro  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iN8PKcNGcuI
> 
> Sleeping-Qntal (LadyxWolfGirl)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKzRmc9FSmY
> 
> Levis-Qntal (SerxWolfGirl)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ioEExSYX58A
> 
> Cat People (Putting Out Fires)-David Bowie (SerxLadyxWolfGirl)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpdHMaccjw4
> 
>  
> 
> Dulcis Amor-Qntal (SerxWolfGirl)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z77Pjm4yjGs
> 
> Get Down Make Love-NIN (SerxWolfGirl)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6snGcj3sBRM
> 
> Number 1-Goldfrapp (LadyxWolfGirl) (LadyxSer)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzfaJRDfveo
> 
> DTF-Adore Delano  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4TB4UdDKBM
> 
>  
> 
> Bryan Ferry-Slave to Love (SerxWolfGirlxLady) (SerxLady) (SerxWolfgirl)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UH1CMCtV4to
> 
>  
> 
> Yonder Lea-Medieval Baebes (SerxLadyxWolfGirl-bouncier)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlvfEIIyclE
> 
> Entre Moi et Mon Amin-Qntal (WolfGirl)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zv2xAXGkCqE
> 
> Suck-NIN (Ser)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBuFhOz_qN4
> 
> Vogelfluc-Qntal (LadyxWolfGirl)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfC-ehObipA
> 
> Stripped-Depeche Mode (Ser) (Lady)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D72fzwqtn9s
> 
> More Than This-Roxy Music (SerxLadyxWolfGirl)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOnde5c7OG8
> 
> Ringfinger-NIN  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7FPpuhwgvw


	33. An Evening With The Dancing-Master (SerxCub, Lady, SerxCubxLady)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Jaime gives a dancing lesson.
> 
> Sansa tries the art of seduction.
> 
> Home.

Ser Jaime Lannister sighs with pleasure as Sansa rubs warm oil into his shoulders, her hands moving quickly, heating the muscle; there are times that he thinks long stints are precious just so he can have the pleasure of coming back to his wolf-girl’s warm bed and warm hands. She’s already begun working on his back and spine, pausing every few moments to nuzzle him, tell him how much she missed him,whisper sweet things in his ear, darling girl.

She is luminous in the last remnants of the sunlight, the first glow of the candles; her hair shines like flame, her eyes bright as clear streams, her laugh bright and musical. _Wolf-girl, you never laughed like this at Winterfell. They should have let you laugh more, perhaps it would have made that cold place melt and blossom._ Ser Jaime of course thinks of Cersei; thinks the wolf-girl’s laughter and sweetness must soothe something in her heart too, for if he feels it she feels it too.

 _Perfect, my little cub, lovely. Your Ser feels so much better, my little love_. Sansa smiles, nipping lightly at his fingers. _Naughty girl. There’s still time to put you in a pile of laundry instead of a warm bed with your Ser. He looks into her eyes as if thinking. _Perhaps my little wolf would like that better?__

_Sansa stops biting and holds her hands in her lap like a lady, the chains looped around her wrist and hooked to her waist only making her look as if she is draped in jewels. Ser Jaime strokes her hair as she curls up beside him, her head on his chest, nuzzling as he rubs his head against hers. _Wolf-girl, you look so lovely._ He fingers her chains. _Someday I’ll take you to the Rock_ he says, watching her eyes sparkle again-- _let you play in the treasury, drape you in all the sparkly things you like._ He laughs as Sansa’s eyes grow wide again. _Even let you skip gold dragons into the sea if you wish--Father would have a fit._ Sansa laughs. He kisses her along the ear, running his lips down her cheekbone. _That’s wonderful. Yes, we must do that. You’d like that wouldn’t you, wolf-girl? To come back to the Rock with me?_ Sansa has no words yet but purrs, snuggling to him murmuring Yes Ser, tilting her lips up for another kiss. He holds her chains as he kisses her. Yes. My cub. My wolf-girl, little love. _

_He ruffles her hair, stroking her, starting to wrap it around his hand. _You do know there are some particularly wicked places along the way to the Rock, along its harbor, yes?_ he growls. _

_They don’t tell girls much about that Ser, only that they’ll be ruined._ she purrs back, rubbing her head against his knee. 

_But you’re already ruined, aren’t you my little cub?_ Ser Jaime tugs at her hair, starts to unlace her dress so he can bite at her shoulder as Sansa arches into his teeth sighing in pleasure. _I believe your Lady and I have seen to that_ he slides on to the floor beside her, slides on top of her, rubbing as Sansa is deliciously helpless, starts rocking her hips against him. _Good. My little girl likes being ruined then_.Ser Jaime finishes unlacing, reaches into her dress to caress her breasts, rolling one nipple between his fingers. _There are lots of other ways to ruin sweet girls like you._ He growls. _I intend to make sure you have them all. Breathe in. No speaking_ He digs his fingernails into her nipple, tugging and pulling as she gasps. _Good girl, very good. You know I like hurting you there._ Sansa’s breath comes quicker as she makes soft low noises in her throat. He digs in again. I can do this because you’re mine, wolf-bitch. he snarls, then kisses at her neck rubbing against her again. _Mmmm. You are delicious. Bet you’re already wet._ One hand holding her chains, he reaches under her dress. _Oh. You are. Good_ He shimmers in the candlelight, his green eyes brilliant in the dim light. _You know, I could do anything to you..._  
he whispers. _Perhaps I’ll show you off in some of those filthy taverns you're so curious about_ His hair glows golden and Sansa moans with delight. _Hmmm._ he whispers, sliding off her. _Would a little wolf-girl like to go see if there’s something nice on her cushion? All fours, teeth_. Sansa eagerly drops and starts to crawl prettily over to the red silk cushion. Ser Jaime watches, enjoying the sight of his wolf-girl on her hands and knees, moving her hips as she crawls. As she does Sansa, gives them a little extra shake. _Naughty girl._ Ser laughs _. Go on._

_The package is large enough that Sansa is puzzled; she tugs at the cloth with her teeth dragging it slowly to where Ser has settled in his chair. He rubs at her head. _Very sweet--you bring me things you catch, good girl, best cub._  
He smiles, teeth sharp and bright._

__Open it._  
_No hands._ _

_Sansa uses her teeth to tug at the ribbons holding it shut, turning her head back and forth to worry it open. _Careful, wolf-girl_ , Ser Jaime chides- _don’t ruin your treat._ He smiles. _Or it’s laundry for you_.  
Sansa works slower with her lips, helping a tie come undone with her tongue which makes her look up and grin triumphantly._

__Very clever, wolf-girl.__ He nods solemnly and when she is unrolling the fabric, turns to chuckle into his silk sleeve.  
_Kneel. You may use your hands now. You may speak._  
Sansa kneels, her fingers working at the last few folds. 

When it unrolls, her eyes are large; silk fragile and red enough it looks like it has been spun from flame itself.It almost feels warm to her touch and she has never seen anything so delicate. 

p>  
> _Thank you my Ser._ Sansa breathes deeply, tongue tied afraid. Thank you, my love.  
Ser kisses her again and there is no need for any words. _My little love he whispers,_ stroking her hair, feeling her shake, _my own wolf-girl._ He holds her quietly for a few moments, both of them clinging to each other, breathing deeply, sweetly. Sansa closes her eyes, to feel her Ser’s arms around her, wrapping hers around him. She can’t see it but he closes his eyes too, rubbing his head against hers, gold against red, shimmering beauty as the candles burn lower.

After a while he raises his head, kissing her on top of hers. 

__Look, wolf-girl._ _

Her Ser is grinning like a boy. 

_She looks at the silk; it’s a dress, almost completely transparent-spun so perfectly, it looks as if it was woven from living flame. _I haven’t ever seen one like this Ser_ she whispers.  
_Probably not, my little love--the tavern-girls wear them-the lucky ones. So I hear._ He grins, eyes sparkling, emerald-bright. _

_I want you to dance for me, wolf-girl_

_Sansa smiles back, playfully pressing her palm to his, stepping one foot forward, one of the many squares she’s learned for court dancing._

Ser Jaime turns his head so his little wolf-girl will not see his broad smile.  
_No, wolf-girl. Not like that, not squares and steps and circles, all those tiresome things_ ( **sudden thought of pressing his palm to Cersei’s in the ballroom, one of the few times they could ever touch in public, every kiss he could not give her in each finger, in each hand until the line pulled her away, her eyes still warm and luminous before she cooled them again so no one would see.** _Someday my love,_ he thinks someday. _Soon_.). 

_He turns back, looks at Sansa._

_This one is different. People say it’s from Braavos, Mereen, Dorne anywhere that seems far away and wicked; it comes from here in Kings Landing, cheap brothels, the girls in Lannisport looking for extra coin. All made right here._ Ser Jaime smiles, stroking her hair. _Put it on, wolf-girl, I want to see._

_Sansa looks nervous._

__Ah. Apologies, my lady._ Ser turns his back.  
Sansa slips off her gown and smallclothes, folding them as her Ser prefers, putting them on top of the chest till she is nude, high full breasts, long legs, lifting her red hair over her shoulders as the dress flows over her head,long cut high on the leg, low on the chest and shoulders, belts softly with a belt of red and gold silk. moves one foot then another, admiring the red against her skin, like liquid flame. It’s so light as to be translucent and it shows her nipples, the soft red hair over her cunt. She’s never even imagined a dress like that before-but Sansa is intrigued, fluffs her hair over her shoulders and smiles._

__Ready Ser._ _

_Ser Jaime turns, eyes wide with delight. _Oh wolf-girl. What a delicious little harlot you are._ Sansa’s cheeks turn pink as she smiles. Ser Jaime looks at her-in the soft light she glows like the center of a ruby, the blood red beats that shake a heart. He takes her hand delicately, gently, walking over to the fireplace. _Beautiful._ he whispers. _

_Sansa looks at her Ser, slightly puzzled. Despite being ruined, Sansa’s not sure exactly what her Ser wants._

_He puts his hands on her hips. _Let me show you._ His hands help move her hips up and down. _Move with your hips, like that, very good, good girl._ He takes them away and Sansa moves her hips lightly, trying to imitate. Ser Jaime smiles at her. _That’s good, but here’s how it needs to be. He whispers into her ear flicking it with his eager tongue., grinding himself lewdly against her rear where she can feel how hard he already is. _You’re trying to get me upstairs for the night_ he purrs _and you won't get that by dancing like a little lady, hmmm?_

Sansa rubs against him, feeling his arms holding her tightly, his hands touching her breasts through the silk of the gown, Sansa’s soft sweet intake of breath as they grow harder. Ser Jaime bites at her neck, savoring her long gasp whisper of _harder Ser harder_. He growls. _Move your hips like we’re fucking, wolf-girl-you know that yours is the sweetest tightest slickest cunt there and that you want my cock inside you. Dance so you make me hard, so frenzied that all I want is to bury myself in your sweet cunt._ He grinds against her, hard, rubbing against her, then going to sit down in his chair, eyes sparkling.  
_Dance for me, wolf-girl._

Sansa sighs with delight, feeling herself growing slippery, enjoying the lightness of her body, the tingling of her skin, enjoying the pleasure in her Ser’s eyes, the feel of them on her.She starts by moving her arms, snakelike not like the shapes she’s used to, not wholly used to moving in bare feet instead of leather slippers. She lifts up her hair and shakes it down in waves of red, peeking through it at her Ser. He is captivated, watching her every move. _Like we’re fucking_ Sansa thinks and starts to twitch her hips and thrust, moving to a rhythm she only knows from nights with her Lady and Ser and then she feels it, her hips actually roll-she has a brief twinkling smile, then focuses on looking in her Ser’s eyes, doing it again and again for the pleasure of it. Ser Jaime groans. _So good, my wolf-girl_. _You can come closer_ he sighs.

Sansa starts to walk slowly, rolling her hips, shaking them from side to side, tossing her hair, smiling, starting to feel the heat in her body rise as she does, seeing his eyes on her breasts her cunt she dips slightly to hide them, smiles at him. _Good girl._ he murmurs. _So very good._ She starts walking towards his chair as he smiles brightly.

Sansa starts to roll her hips, feel something loosen in her spine, something good.She catches her Ser’s eye holds contact boldly and brightly and it feels wonderful, this writhing like a serpent, her body free. Suddenly she smiles brightly, running her fingers lightly over his arms, raking them with her fingernails, then spinning away, lifting her hair and letting it fall like a veil of red silk, thrusting out her chest. Sansa reaches down, caressing her nipples letting them harden before she rolls her hips again and again, walking snakelike,  
grinding her hips remembering how she rocks them when she’s astride her Ser, him looking at her as if she is a queen even if she belongs to him, the rub of her hips as she works against her Lady’s leg, her Lady groaning in bliss as she straddles Sansa rubs back, claws at her skin, Sansa arching up to rub back until they both collapse--but now she is here, rolling and grinding her hips in a red silk dress, dancing. 

She spins and shakes, and like a predatory cat stalks back over to her Ser, who is idly stroking himself through his trousers watching her. Sansa bares her teeth and pulls away his hand, holding it captive as she takes his hand presses it to her breasts, belly down to her cunt, so close he can feel the soft fur through the cloth. They both breathe heavily and her Ser is smiling, deliciously pleased. _Mmmm. You are earning your coin pretty girl_. He smiles sharply, still with a slight shudder of pleasure. _Show me more. Make me want you even more, wolf-girl._

Sansa spins, wildly shaking her hair, feeling the skirt fly up and expose her, delighting in it. She forgot how much she loved dancing, but it’s even better like this. She rocks her hips, moving them in circle after circle, stronger now, the feeling sending shivers of delight up her spine, feeling herself already wet.

 _Show me your cunt is the sweetest._ she thinks

Sansa catches her Ser’s eyes again, hones in to the emerald sparkle and stalks forward smiling, slowly rolling her hips, eying him from golden hair to black leather boot toes like a treat. He’s going to be hers. 

Ser watches his little cub stalk and feels a hot sweet rush of pleasure as she comes closer, circling around and around, so close to him that he can see her hard nipples, her soft patch of fur, the slickness already on her thighs and he sighs in delight as Sansa grins and climbs up into the chair with him, settling herself over his groin. _Yesss_ Ser Jaime sighs _yes my dirty little girl, so good_ and he’s been hard already but groans as he feels her brush against him, grind. Sansa is writhing, making sure to rub her cunt extra hard into him, feeling his hardness, using her hands to pin his arms to the chair. rubbing her breasts against his chest, whispering into the shell of his ear

I’m wet for you Ser she pauses a brief moment, flicks her tongue, at his earlobe _your little cub wants to feel you inside her, so she can squeeze you all around, kissing you from the inside._ She’s panting and Ser is too and she starts to reach down, to unlace him, pulling his cock free and slowly rubbing against it, then thinking, rolling up her dress to expose her long pale legs. _I want to feel you inside me, fucking me, fucking your wolf-girl, oh my lion..._ She growls, baring her teeth, grinding against his chest as she writhes harder then bites gnawing into his skin, feeling him rouse, growl on his own, snapping back at him. _Fuck me Ser. Fuck me._ Sansa is gasping, dripping, grinding, slicking his cock with her own juices dying for him to slip inside her. _Fuck me Ser-you’ll enjoy it. A lot._ She gasps, wriggling trying to slip his cock into her.

 _I will, little cub._ Ser Jaime lifts her up, laying her on the floor, rolling up her skirt, pressing down into her as he likes to do , Sansa gasping for breath at his weight. Mmmm. My girl is going to get such a hard fucking for making her Ser so happy. He growls, biting at her neck, guiding himself in. _Perfect_ he snarls in her ear, _nothing like my wolf-girl’s hungry little cunt_ and as he starts to fuck pins down her hands, leaving Sansa to lift her hips and wrap her legs around his back, her hair spread around her like crimson fire, him gilded by the firelight, snarling, biting at her thrusting hard and deep, just the way he likes it. He releases one hand _roll your pearl for me little girl, as many times as you want, your Ser’s so proud of his naughty cub_ and she does, reaching into the hot wetness where they are joined, rubbing and teasing at her pearl, feeling him slide in and out of her under her fingers, gasping and sighing, digging her heels into his back. Then she playfully nips at his shoulder, biting, tiny little marks and it’s then that he growls biting into her shoulder, twisting and shoving her onto her stomach. _My little wolf bitch needs to be mounted_ he growls _sweet little whore open up_ and he bites hard into her shoulder until she cries out, howling, trembling whispering _yours Ser yours,_ him fucking furiously, close enough that he holds onto her hips for a few moments so he can bite and worry at the back of her neck. _Yes little cub open up take your Ser_ he gasps, unable to do more besides fuck harder and it’s when she whimpers softly, putting her head down that he can’t take any more, biting her neck and roaring _Mine_ as he comes, feeling her tighten around him, flooding her cunt with his seed.

He collapses on top of her enjoying pinning her to the ground, her gasps and labored breath Rub he snarls and feels Sansa working her hips against the floor, rubbing her pearl until he feels her shudder feels her gasp in bliss. _Good girl_ he whispers _my good little girl, my cub, wolf-girl_ and both of them move to each other at the same time to rub their heads together, tenderly, sweetly. They lie there, Ser curled around his cub, stroking her hair. He grins. _I think you’re getting the idea-we’ll have to practice more to make sure that you can do it perfectly. A great deal- and your Lady and I want you perfect_ He chuckles, nibbling at her. _Does my little cub want to dance more?_ Sleepy Sansa murmurs yes Ser and there is rest, quiet, gentle, breathing. 

_Are there lots of taverns on the way to Casterly Rock?_ whispers Sansa, wiggling her hips the tiniest bit. _Yes,_ Ser Jaime whispers. _Only the filthiest, little love. Good._ murmurs Sansa nestling into his chest. Ser Jaime’s heart swells. It has been far too long. _I’m certain your Lady would welcome a visit there too-when her duties are finished..._ he can’t finish for Sansa kissing him, her warm little tongue stirring him again. He nibbles at her shoulder. _Turn around wolf-girl. Rest now._ He puts his arm over her, breathing in the scent of her sweat, her delicious sweetness. Before he falls asleep he thinks of letters to write, routes, provisions, how Cersei and he will feel seeing their cub get her first taste of the sea, how good it would be to have all of them home. Their home. Ser Jaime sighs, kissing Sansa on the forehead and in front of the fire, they both dream.


	34. Interlude: A Gift From Home (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter.
> 
> A gift.
> 
> The Queen at peace.

Cersei looks on her desk; she's tired and overheated from being outside, her cheeks ache from smiling and there's sweat running down the back of her dress. It seems like nothing is quite cool enough. There is a small parcel tied with string. Cersei looks at it carefully, pokes at it with her dagger, notices that it's the paper that Ser Jaime uses to wrap things then locks the door.

The Queen climbs onto the bed, sits crosslegged, starts to slowly untie the string, and then rips it open, paper flying. There is a small bar of lavender and honey soap which she breathes in deeply, two handkerchiefs embroidered with red and gold flowers- _lovely work, little dove_ she thinks and a letter. She recognizes the handwriting immediately--ladylike but not perfect, stumbling on a few flourishes but still a treasure. The Queen allows herself half a smile, half a tiny real one.

 

Dear Your Grace,

I hope that this letter finds you well and that Dorne is pleasant. 

(Cersei sighs. If only it was more pleasant.)

I miss you. I have gone into our room so I can smell lavender-it makes me think of you.  
I miss combing your hair; I love the way it falls over my hands, how beautiful it is in the light. I had a tiny roll of spun gold embroidery thread once-Arya stole it--and I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world until you let me touch your hair. Your little dove hopes to be combing lavender oil through it soon and rubbing your temples with it too as you like.

(Cersei's smile widens.Having her little dove's fingers trailing through her hair is a source of intense pleasure and her girl is thrilled to be able to touch it, to slip into the tub with her and wash it as Cersei leans back--a pleasure. Of course that little brat stole Sansa's thread. _Hmph_. The Queen scowls and determines that Sansa must have at least another roll. After all she has to be well kept.)

Ser Jaime has continued my training; I am learning a great deal under his tutelage and he says you will be pleased. I want you to be pleased. He said that sometimes Lannisters are born into the wrong families, which would explain a great deal. Ser Jaime has also been entertaining me and says he has further ideas for later.

(The Queen smiles, feeling her skin tingle with pleasure. _Oh my darling brother, what have you been up to?_ She can't wait to find out and the thought flushes her cheeks to pink. Perhaps she'll tie her little dove up and make her explain-also lovely.)

When you return, I need to show you a dance that Ser Jaime has taught me. He assures me you will find it very exciting and find me very graceful. Ser Jaime has promised we are going to take a few small trips outside King’s Landing and then we will be taking a larger one-and find you. I will be so happy. I know you do not like being embraced in public, but I have many embraces saved for private.  
Ser Jaime says he will be very happy too.

(Cersei's eyes open wide that her beloved has actually taught their cub a dance, but knowing him she doubts it will be anything remotely close to anything being done in the Queen's Ballroom. It should be delightful. As for small trips, the Queen hopes only that Ser Jaime will be able to manage any escapades with discretion--or at least without discovery. There is a crinkling of the corners around her mouth. _Embraces for private?_  
Cersei thinks briefly that her little dove is much more like an excitable puppy at times and thinks of Sansa squeezing her tightly around the waist and not letting go, nuzzling into her dress-and a sound rings out in the room that is strange in her throat, laughter. _Silly cub_ she thinks and smiles-and the most feared woman in Westeros laughs again.)

I have also been working on my needlework; there are some handkerchiefs here which I hope you like. I wanted to make gloves but Ser Jaime said that perhaps they might not be as useful in Dorne. Also, I miss kissing your slippers, the way you do needlework and the ribbonwork you have shown me. 

( _I'll show you needlework_ thinks Cersei with a sharp white smile and a glint in her emerald eye. She has found some specialty curved ones in the Dornish markets that she thinks will look quite beautiful decorating her little dove's chest. _Mmmm._ )

I hope they are treating you specially. My Lady should have that. When you come back I’ll tell you about everything. Ser Jaime you told him I must show you. I can do that too.

(Cersei smiles again. _You'll show me, little dove. You'll show both of us. Again and again. You don't even know how much ours you are, forever_ -but Cersei thinks that it will only make Sansa more trembly and obedient out of pleasure. Good little cub. Pretty little dove.)

<3  
(Cersei wants to sigh, but decides she will allow her one heart on her letter.Just one.)  
Sansa  
(YLD)

The Queen holds onto the letter then tucks it away safely-she wants to read it again before she must burn it. Slipping out of her dress and into her smallclothes she curls on the bed, one of the handkerchiefs folded at her breast, redolent with the smell of lavender and honey. Thinking of her brother and her little cub's embrace, she allows a soft darkness to wash over her and close her eyes. For the first time in weeks she sleeps deeply and silently.


	35. Prelude: Before the Garden (SerxLady)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Winterfell.
> 
> A meeting.
> 
> Ser Jaime's orders.

In the cottage beyond the stables, Ser Jaime Lannister lies on his back groaning in pleasure, then, reaches up pulling an armful of claws and gold and a tiny smile into his arms, looking eye to eye at Cersei.They tilt their foreheads together, emerald eye looking into emerald eye, lips bitten, cheeks flushed. It’s Cersei who leans forward so they can rub their heads together nuzzling at each other as they have done since before they had speech, longer and they stay there a moment breathing in each other’s scent. 

There is no need for any word, they know it in their hearts and bones and blood.

Cersei’s face is smooth again, but quiet. Ser Jaime strokes her hair and she sighs, nestling closer to his chest for a moment. Ser Jaime kisses her along her cheekbone, rewarded with a sigh and a smile.

Now’s the time when Cersei cherishes the mundane; talking about the day, dinner, stories, jests all sound different here when she’s in her brother’s arms. He breaks the silence first. “And how is your new pet? Is she learning your favorite songs?” He laughs softly, teasingly. "You do always have to have the best of everything.”

"She is delicious. " Cersei murmurs. "Such wide eyes at everything, such sweetness,such a funny little girl sometimes.Did you know she cried when I gave her a pair of slippers to match mine? Said she’d never had anything so pretty. Red, of course. "  
Cersei smiles.

 

"Oh? And were yours worn out from kisses?" Ser Jaime grins. "Seems to me a certain little Northern doll would spend hours kissing them if given the choice." Ser Jaime has only seen delicious glimpses of her since she's come to King's Landing but already has a few ideas.  
Cersei laughs.  
"Not yet". she says winking, the smile finally creeping further into her face. "She adores me. She pleases me."

"I think she’d please you too."

"Really?" Ser Jaime leans forward, listening. "You’d let me play with your favorite toy?" He puts his hand to her forehead.  
"Must I call a Maester?"

Cersei cuffs him on the shoulder. "Quiet." she says, following it with a word from their childhood that only she and he know. Then they’re both silent. It’s serious.

Cersei sits up and Ser Jaime drapes his coat around her to keep her warm-one of the few times the Lioness Queen looks like a little girl herself, sleeves slightly too long so only her fingertips poke out, elegant toes peeking out at the bottom, he knows the ankle bracelets he has given her are there--so she feels like his hand is always there, always.

Cersei looks quiet for a moment. 

"I think we should keep her forever."

Ser Jaime is momentarily take aback. He does not ask if she is sure, because she wouldn’t say it otherwise. Cersei does not share her love or show softness except in darkness, far-away places.  
Then he thinks about the sparkle in her eyes, the warmth he feels after Cersei’s been with her girl, the little parchment notes he’s seen in her room. 

"Ours. Our pet, our girl. Anything we want her to be." Cersei says clearly.

Ser Jaime slowly starts to realize something he does not have words for, not yet and a fire stoked with worry starts to, then flickers out, replaced by warmth and curiosity.  
(He’s not ashamed to think that he might enjoy seeing how that red hair would look flowing over his boots either.)

"We are Lannisters." he whispers to his sister, nipping at her earlobe. "We take what we want. We get what we want."

Cersei reaches up to kiss him, eyes open so she can look into them their tongues entwining as they caress each other hands wound in each other’s golden hair. When he breaks it she whispers, "...my brother my dearest love."

Then she dresses, stockings, smallclothes, her heavy gown that Ser Jaime helps up with the back. She straightens her hair, takes a breath and he feels her shift, the air around her body turn to steel, her face become cool marble, her body become heavy and strong, her smile fade and turn silent till suddenly she’s Queen again. Even he’s a little afraid to see her now, though he’d never say so. 

As she turns she says proudly. "Lord Commander-"

he looks at her--

"would you care to escort Lady Sansa Stark in the garden two days from now?"

He smiles. "As my Queen wishes, so shall it be done. Yes."

He sees a tiny flicker of a smile behind her eyes before it is polished away and then she is walking away. 

Ser Jaime’s going to have to wait a while to leave but that’s all right. He picks up his coat to breathe in her lavender scent mixed with the leather, rub his cheek against it, then slowly does himself up, splashing his face with water, slipping on his shirt, sitting for a moment on the bale of hay covered with a rug that serves for furniture.

It gives him time to think a few delicious thoughts about the wolf-girl. He’s looking forward to the garden, makes a note to look especially dashing since it will bring such a pretty pink blush to the Stark girl’s cheeks. It would be such a pleasure to make her blush.

Ser Jaime Lannister smiles again, for the first time in forever, showing the sharpness of his white teeth, enjoying it.

"We’re Lannisters." he thinks again. "We get what we want."

The next two days can’t come soon enough.


	36. The Way Station (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The open road.
> 
> Traveling nameless.
> 
> An overnight.

The sun is setting and the boy at the way station far up the road from King’s Landing, hauls in clean hay, cleans scum from the horse trough, adds fresh water-with an inn miles down the road, they see the odd business. Most travelers welcome a place to rest, water their horses and be on their way. He’s sweeping the front entrance as a traveler arrives.

In the low light, the young man sees a man ride up on a white horse; he wears a dark hooded cloak and very bright black leather boots for someone who has been traveling. The horse drinks and the rider is silent. Then, the horse turns and the traveler faces him.

"Good evening,boy." he hears a firm, gentle voice. The man whispers to his horse "Stay, Glory." and slowly unwraps his black cloak.

The boy gasps. 

Beneath it, there is a beautiful girl, pale skin, red hair, lying warmly against the man’s chest, breathing softly, her breast rising and falling. She opens her eyes and after a long kiss to the man looks at him,  
Her eyes are pools of blue, sapphire in the dimming light.  
He cannot believe what he is seeing; despite her garb, he can’t help but think she could be a high-born girl with her hair in braids, her gown in simple blue fabric, but well made-and her dress is low cut enough to show bites on her skin and around her neck -the boy catches his breath-a red leather collar, simple like a hunting dog’s  but tooled with gold edges and a single, simple lion. Seeing the buckle rise and fall with her breath stuns him and he can no longer sweep, but stand there and gaze. He thinks for a moment that this could be what a princess in a song looks like.

"Well, my little girl, it appears someone finds you pretty. Smile. You may blow him a kiss, he’s being so gallant."

The girl bows her head then raises it, pressing the tips her fingers to her pink, pretty lips, a soft exhale to send the kiss on its way.  
The boy swears he feels it, feels himself grow suddenly hard.

"She’ll do that to a man." states the gentleman, the setting sunlight catching a tendril of gold hair under his hood, gilding a fine cheekbone.  
The man rubs the girl under the chin and she makes soft, sweet breathy noises, then raises his gloved hands to scratch behind her ears, whispering to her "Good girl, yes."  
She has a look of such delight that the boy is trying hard not to groan. As he looks anywhere but in front of him he catches the glint of a sword under the cloak. The man rolls up the girl’s skirt, showing soft red down, the pale pink of her cunt.  
Simple as that as she smiles, rubbing her head back against the man’s chest, rocking her hips back and forth on the saddle.

"The man clicks his tongue at her. "Pretty little girl." he murmurs, running his fingers under her collar. "Mine." The man strokes her hair, reaching down to cup one breast than another, then to finger lightly at her cunt. "Well, well. Aren’t you wet?". he growls, "My sweet little bitch." The girl growls, licking at his fingers as he brings them to her lips, him pausing to smile at her.

The man turns his eyes back to the boy whose eyes are wide, his cock bulging and visible through his trousers. The young man looks ready to come or faint.

"Isn’t she sweet?" Ser Jaime growls. "So perfectly loyal. So well-trained she’ll do whatever I say without a moment’s hesitation. How many men are fortunate enough to have that even in the lowest hunting dog or kestrel? She is perfection, isn’t she?" The girl blushes, leans up for a kiss. "Yes. Kisses for you, aren’t you splendid? Good girl, let me scratch behind those pretty ears. Sweet girl. "He scratches, the girl yips and rumbles low in her throat lifting her head up to his fingers

Ser Jaime looks forward, right at the boy. "I bet you’ve never seen such a precious, beautiful bitch before." He chuckles lowly. "Wearing my collar and she’ll never ask for a higher honor than to kneel before me, be my own sweet bitch and sometimes my footrest. " He smiles. "But it won’t do to have her do just that-my pretty little girl deserves some fresh air, exercise, time outside." He smiles. 

"Since we can rest here, I plan to reward her for being such a good girl as well as water my horse. My horse has been watered--and now it’s time for my little girl to get her treat. Roll your dress higher so our friend can see."  
Sansa rolls up the rougher blue fabric, white thighs marked with bites--and slashes--and the boy is dizzied. He’d call for someone but he doesn’t, just wants to look on this man and this girl.

Ser Jaime smiles."Spread."  
Sansa leans back, looking the boy in the eye as she proudly opens herself, long beautiful fingers opening to show her pearl, her pink, slick petals, the soft wetness between. "Such a good little bitch." the man whispers to her, tugging at her collar, then turning to look at the boy.

"She’s not permitted to speak. I trust you understand-and I know you want her to feel at ease. Rub yourself, little girl--roll your pearl right between your fingers. Make yourself feel good."  
Sansa wriggles and sighs, spreading herself wider, never taking her eyes off the boy but always leaning closer to her Ser, rubbing against him. Ser Jaime smiles. 

"I think our friend is enjoying it. Do put on a good show for him--my own sweet bitch . Aren't you?" She smiles, growls. He presses his hand lightly to her neck as she sighs, smiling. "More, my pretty little girl, mine." Sansa spreads herself just a bit wider, more pinkness, more soft silky wetness.  
"Mmmm. Do you think he’ll come from just seeing your cunt?" He looks into the girl’s eyes as she smiles wickedly as the boy shivers.

"And a wondrous cunt it is." The man leans forward slightly almost whispering. "Tight too-you wouldn’t believe what it’s like to be inside her."

The boy is rooted to the ground, gazing, almost in pain from this arousal.

Ser Jaime whispers. "Even I have trouble not spilling into her right away- my own little girl has the finest cunt in all the seven. I took her maidenhead and then I stole her away to be mine forever. Didn't I ?"  
Sansa moans in pleasure.  
"Play with your pearl. That’s right. Mine. Sweetest of bitches."  
Sansa steals another kiss then plays harder, white fingers slipping softly over her pink pearl and petals as she finds herself so wet, feeling her Ser hard behind her, but holding her safely. She is daring and spreads her lips to show the slick, pink slit with a wanton smile.  
Her Ser smiles. "Very good, little girl. That’s mine you know." Sansa makes soft whimpering noises as she faces forward again, lips still spread.

He smiles sharply again, white teeth in the lantern’s glow, looking at the young man who is both terrified and excited.

"I’m going to show you what’s mine. Mine."  
He is breathing harder, enjoying watching her, watching the boy gasp.  
He grins. "I also won’t be offended if you spill in your trousers watching us. It’s only natural."

The boy makes a soft strangled noise, watching in the half dark, trying to smile, trying to control himself, barely succeeding.

 

 Ser smiles back sharply, then his gaze turns firm again.  
"Mmm. That pretty cunt’s a bit empty isn’t it, little girl?" Sansa nods, resting her head on her Ser’s chest, lying back to spread just a bit more. Somebody needs a bit of fucking to tide her over..."

Ser Jaime moves his leather gloved hand over her breasts, down her belly as she shivers with pleasure, then onto the softness of her inner thighs decked with red and lilac marks like a fall of petals. Her eyes close for a moment.

"No. Open your eyes. I want you to see". He whispers to her.  
"He’s so hard right now. You’re doing that. We’re doing that."  
Ser Jaime sees no need for further words, simply takes a gloved finger and slides it into Sansa’s already slippery cunt, listening to her moan.  
"Good girl-take me nice and deep--as deep as you’ll be taking me in your throat tonight."  
Sansa squirms on her Ser’s fingers, panting as he slips inside her. 

Ser smiles,biting her on the neck as he works his gloved fingers into her. Sansa gasping and yipping with pleasure as his glistening fingers slide in and out. "There you go, good girl, fuck right back, yes. You’ll have my cock soon, I’ll fill you right up like you need-you need my cock like breathing, don't you? Yes,sweet little girl, fuck harder, make yourself feel good for me Mmm." kisses her, working his fingers, already slippery from her fluids in and out, then breaks the kiss, still holding on to her as she pants and rubs.

He fixes his eyes on the boy's, smiling.

"Ever seen anything this pretty?  
His eyes flicker over the apprentice who looks as if he is about to collapse, wide eyed.

"You should see her when she’s on her knees in front of me...see her run like my own little hunting bitch. And her tongue-open, girl."  
Sansa opens her mouth as her Ser slips his slick leather-clad finger inside her mouth. Lick. Show this kind man how you obey your master."

Sansa’s tongue swirls around Ser Jaime’s finger from tip to root, licking, sucking, the grain of the leather, sucking away her own juices laving his gloves clean even as he slips another finger into her mouth as she opens wider.  
   
"My little girl can take more" Ser Jaime growls, his emerald eyes fixed on the apprentice’s dark brown ones-"see?" Ser Jaime slides both fingers hard into Sansa’s cunt and she howls in pleasure. "Good bitch. Such a good, sweet bitch."  
Ser Jaime growls deliciously in her ear and smiles again, feeling Sansa writhe against him, slicking his fingers and oh, he is so hard right now he wants to just fuck her but since he can’t he’ll make do.

"My pretty little bitch is making you hard. She makes me hard too-like a rock, don’t you girl? Between us men, she begged me to take her maidenhead. You’ve never heard such pretty cries as that-but I kissed every tear away and fucked her harder for it. Didn’t I, little girl?"  
She pants and smiles, fingers working hard.  
Ser fixes his eyes on the boy.  
"And I do suggest you try a taste of maiden’s blood-a bit of paradise, just like your pretty cunt, sweetest girl."  
Sansa yelps, rocking back and forth.

"Yes, good girl, squeeze, stick out that pretty tongue, pant for your master." Sansa gasps sliding up and down on her Ser’s fingers, feeling the pressure mount inside her as his thumb slowly works over her pearl, making her gasp. Ser Jaime smiles at the young man.  
"She can barely go a few moments without having something inside her, isn’t that right, my naughty little girl?  Be good-yip and howl, show what a good bitch you are and I think I’ll let you come as sweet and sticky as you want, all for me."

Sansa’s mind is a haze of heat and pleasure,  her Ser’s fingers teasing her, pressing into her cunt and oh she wants more but slides furiously, fucking at him.  Without words she yips and howls, barking like his hunting dog, loving how he is showing her off, putting her through her paces and she doesn’t need words to respond. She tilts her head back and howls softly, red hair falling down her back, braids loosened and sweaty curls clinging to her reddened face.

Ser leans back. using his other hand to briefly stroke her hair. "Mmmm. Perfect."  
He looks again, addressing the boy, eyes locked.  
"I’ll tell you one more thing-she would have been destined for marriage...but I’m so much happier to have her as my sweetest ruined bitch. She’s so much happier, licking at my boots, spreading herself at my whim, sheathing me when the night is chill. No cloak in the world can bring that, only my collar around her neck-and that’s a treasure isn’t it? Rock back and forth little girl you’re so ready, show this kind man your trick my good little slut, my beautiful whore..."  
He presses against her , pushes this thumb and fingers to reach her inside and to catch the rough spot inside, pressing and pushing, whispering in her ear "come for me little love, my little cub, my own good girl only mine, come for me."  
Sansa can’t do anything more but howl as she clenches, her body shaking and floods the saddle, drenching the towel she’s been riding on, breathing hard and shuddering again as she feels her fluids slide down her legs, cries out and flows again, feeling herself pouring out as with one last hard shake and cry she collapses on his chest, gasping for air, sighing in bliss.  
After that the only sound is  the drip, drop of her fluids,hitting the dry ground. 

 

Ser Jaime smiles. "Very good, little girl, sweetest of bitches. You bring such happiness wherever you go. Kisses for me."  
He leans in and for a moment his eyes close as their tongues entwine. 

Ser Jaime then looks at the boy, who is still staring, barely able to speak .  
" Sadly, we must say farewell. My little girl will be needing things-things only I can provide. Wave farewell to the gentleman".  
Sansa waves, her fingertips still rich and heavy with her own perfumes.

He looks at the boy before he goes.  
"While you’re sweeping and filling oat bins, I’ll have my cock down my beautiful little girl’s throat.  
Think of her gulping down my seed like honey tonight, won’t you?"

Sansa smiles up at her Ser, radiant as he strokes her hair. "Yes. Good girl."

He tosses the boy a gold coin. "For your trouble and for your hospitality."

"Oh? And have a delightful evening."  
One last sharp knife of a grin-  
" I will. "

Ser Jaime grins, resettling Sansa in front of him, tenderly rewrapping her in his cloak till she is not even visible, warm and safe.  He nudges his horse into motion. 

They ride away and for the first time the boy hears the hooves behind them, the guards keeping them safe. He watches them go into the distance with their lanterns on the way to the inn. The boy has some suspicions, especially with the coin but he intends to keep the coin and his suspicions to himself. Wayfaring strangers--but as he thinks this he’s already running to the barn to deal with his burning cock.

On the road,Ser Jaime kisses his drowsy, snuggling Sansa atop the head. "Very good, my little cub. You did so well and we had such a lovely time.I enjoyed it"-he growls-"and I know you did. Good. You’ll make a perfect traveling companion when we go to the Rock. Very soon, my little love, very soon."

Sansa makes warm, sweet purring noises, kissing at him, both of them thinking how sweet it will be to reach the inn. 

Ser Jaime has a brief moment of fierce protectiveness, wanting to keep his girl safe from the entire world, like he has been entrusted with a rare jewel who is drowsing on his chest, exhausted from the pleasure of showing herself to be his. 

For her, Ser Jaime focuses on the road ahead, thinking of the inn, the inevitability of subpar sausages  and over blacked bacon for supper and the pleasure of his wolf-girl, which matters above all else.


	37. Red for Sweetness (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: There is *serious* knife and blood play in this as well as cutting. If this is a squick, skip this chapter now. I mean it.
> 
> Blood.
> 
> Play.
> 
> Love.

Ser Jaime walks in looking angry, golden hair tossed, his green eyes flashing, Sansa able to tell he is trying desperately hard to control himself. She reaches for him but he moves past her stone quiet and cold. "Wait, wolf girl." he growls "wait till I call for you." Sansa sits on her cushion quiet and worried watching Ser Jaime shudder, breathe, drink a cup of water, breathe again, drink more and then finally sit down.

"It’s all right, wolf-girl. Come over now."

Sansa comes nervously up to his boots, feels him stroke her hair. "It’s nothing you did, my little love. It’s-politics. And lists and ridiculous pieces of paper." Sansa is rubbing her cheek against his boot. He sighs. "But I have my little wolf-girl with me and that makes things so much better." Sansa nuzzles at his boots, giving tiny licks. "Such a good girl, my little girl."

He takes his hand, lifts her up, pulls her into his lap for a long kiss. "My sweet, sweet wolf-girl." Ser Jaime looks at her solemnly.

"There’s something I want to do tonight.I'm going to be hard on you, little love. Because I want to." He looks into her eyes, those pools of blue fire. "I need you to be brave."

Sansa nods.

Ser Jaime looks at her. "Will you do this for me?"  
Sansa looks him in the eye, gazing deep, like looking into the eyes of lion, ready to strike.  
Pure emerald.  
"Yes."

Ser Jaime holds her close, kissing her on the top of her head, rubbing her lower back, stroking her hair, comforting touches that Sansa likes. "It’s going to hurt."he whispers. "I know Ser," she whispers back into his ear. "Here. You need to eat something." he murmurs.

Ser Jaime brings her over to the fireplace, there’s two bowls of stew, fragrant with rosemary and tarragon scattered with fresh parsley from the garden, slices of brown bread with dried apricots in it, butter and honey. Sansa eats quietly from her bowl, feeling oddly awkward about eating with a spoon. Ser smiles at her. "It’s all right. I need to make sure you eat tonight--we’ll feed you from my hands later, little girl." Sansa finishes her stew feeling a little strange, nervous-Ser is so intent right now, the firelight making his hair shimmer gold from the heat and light, so intent that he only briefly remembers to pat Sansa’s hand. "There wolf-girl. You’re going to do fine." He smiles. "I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise". Sansa smiles again, curling by his feet for a few minutes both of them resting, looking into the fire as if it could speak to them.

Then Ser pats her on the leg. "Up on the bed, wolf-girl. I need to get things ready." He sighs, thinking, then kisses her , eyelids, nose, mouth. "Beautiful little cub." he whispers. "Rest till I come for you." Sansa puts her head on the pillow and drowses, her red hair flowing out in waves of garnet, dreams flickering behind her eyes in the deep silence, only the sound of rustling in the clothespress, a few thumps and more noticeably the quiet where the fire crackles, the slow quiet of her Ser’s breath. She hears him take a deeper one.

"Here, cub. "  
Sansa takes a deep breath and steps forward.  
"Strip."

The air feels like it is crackling as Sansa strips out of her dress, folding it into a package of gold and red on the bed, her breath deep and slow, seeing out of the corner of her eye Ser’s shirt folded on the clothespress. She starts to kneel, but instead he takes her hand, walking her over to the table everything warm and golden from the candles. The table is covered with a white sheet and he helps her step up using the chair. Lie down little cub, he whispers. Everything feels silent. Strange. "Holy"thinks Sansa.

Sansa lies down, lets Ser Jaime shift her as he likes till she’s in the right position. He scoops up her hair, fans it back behind her, a crimson flame. Flat on her back, she’s looking at the shadows of the candles on the ceiling, deeply quiet. Ser has even taken off her chain.

"Keep still, little cub." whispers Ser Jaime and she feels hands caressing her shoulders breasts belly thighs, back up to move tenderly around her scalp, one hand lightly over her face. "I know you like the gloves, wolf-girl," she hears her Ser purr and Sansa breathes in the intoxicating scent, leather, her Ser’s own spicy scent, sweat, slight metal. She sighs in pleasure as she feels his hands move back over her arms, shoulders, then to her breasts. "Relaxed?" she hears as if from far away and Sansa nods, feeling soft and melting inside, somewhere very deep.

"Good."

Sansa feels a hand at her throat, grasping. "Look what I’ve caught." Her Ser laughs low in his throat, wickedly. "Laid herself right down and bared her belly for me, didn’t have to capture her at all". His hand squeezes lightly, then a bit tighter. Sansa sighs low in her throat, making soft noises with his hand around her neck.  
"Mine now. "  
Ser Jaime growls.  
"Mine always. "  
One more squeeze and then his fingers are moving over, smoothing where he held tight to her throat. "To remind you that you’re mine, little cub." Sansa rumbles low in her throat purring. Ser Jamie smiles "My little cub’s learning to purr. How sweet. Look up cub-and don’t move."

Sansa looks up and into the jade pools of her Ser’s eyes and feels a steel blade pressed to her throat. She tries to be still even though she feels a tremble of fear and a wetness between her thighs. "My claws look so pretty against your skin." he whispers.  
Sansa sighs somewhere within pleasure and fear, knowing without seeing that her Ser’s roll of knives is out and she breathes out offering herself to the blade. "Ahhhh. Good girl. Good prey. Be limp now, be good."  
Ser’s eyes are focused on her intently.

"You know what I want tonight, little girl."

"Yes Ser."  
Sansa whispers.  
"Blood."

With that Sansa feels a shiver go through her entire body, flooding her cunt, her skin feeling like it is humming.  
"Good girl. "Ser Jaime whispers. "Clever."  
He is so close she can taste his breath, smell the metal of the blade. 

"You’re going to bleed for me tonight little cub. Because I want it.Because I love the way the red looks on your skin" he whispers "because I love the taste on my tongue, my sweet little girl’s life right there for me" and he drops even lower "and because you love it too, you suck at mine like it’s a sweet." Sansa shivers with fear and pleasure.

 

"Put your arm out little love-Ser’s got a special surprise for you tonight." Sansa blinks. "Lay your left arm down just like this." Sansa does. Her Ser smiles with pleasure and excitement.  
"You like it when your Ser gives you pretty things don’t you?"  
Sansa whispers "yes Ser, I do Ser."  
Ser Jaime smiles. I’ve got something very pretty for you. "You’ll be able to look and feel and know you’re mine." He smiles. "Which I know you love." He holds up a piece of vellum pierced and cut through and Sansa suddenly realizes what it is, though small and down to the simplest lines.  
"Lion."  
Sansa whispers, trembling inside.  
Ser Jaime smiles. "Yes. "  
"This lion is going on your arm. I’m going to use my sharpest blade. You will hurt. You will bleed. You will be still. "

"This isn’t just scratches like I’ve done. he whispers this is right into your skin. I’m going to have to wipe away your sweet blood when I cut, flows just like you do when you’re wet for me. It will hurt. You’ll have a mark-oh, this one will go away after a while more than a week, but it will be there."  
Ser Jaime sighs in pleasure stroking her face feeling her smile. "Oh you like this, little cub. You’re scared but you like this." Sansa does even though she is trying not to tremble. "You like knowing that I own you, that you’re marked.Anyone who sees that arm will know you belong to me-but best, you’ll know that you lay down and let me cut it into your skin because I own you" he whispers "and because it gives my little cub such pleasure. You’ll hurt for me " his voice drops. "Because you're mine. Because I love you. Because you love me."

"Yes." whispers Sansa, head spinning "yes yes" so wanting a kiss but unable to make herself move.

"Good little cub. You need to be absolutely still for this even when it hurts. Be brave.:

She hears him dip his hands in a bowl of liquor , wipe them with a clean towel, feels a blade against her upper arm, stripping it of the tiny soft pale hairs, gently and softly." Good girl." Ser whispers, the light making his hair gleam bright. So good. Sansa feels a soft wipe of liquor on her arm feels the vellum put down. "My sharpest, my finest. My claws." Ser Jaime sighs "yes, my little love" and Sansa catches a flicker of dragonglass as he puts his hand on her shoulder.  
"Now."

The first cut is like a line of fire and Sansa gasps. "Good little cub, good little cub" whispers her Ser. "So beautiful. Like blood on snow."  
He is breathing harder and so is Sansa, feeling herself lift inside.

He whispers "I want a taste but I need to wait too. Patience, my sweetest wolf-girl."  
Then with another stroke of fire another line is done. Sansa breathes slowly, easing into the pain even though her eyes are watering. She feels a soft cool dab of the liquor. Her Ser sighs in pleasure, then whispers now little cub and the next stroke and the next sting and burn and blaze with pain. Sansa feels her arm dripping though she knows it’s liquor and not her life’s blood pouring out. "Wolf-girl?" questions her Ser. "I’m fine Ser "she speaks even though she is lost in a world of blood and love and feeling, then a wave of floating pleasure. "You’re doing so well, little one her Ser whispers. Brave little cub." Sansa moans with sweetness as the hot coppery smell of blood reaches her nostrils, mingling with her Ser’s spices, her own slick arousal and she’s never felt any kind of desire like this before, her whole body drifting, the sweetness of her blood the anticipation of her Ser’s blood on her lips. "ah ah" she gasps.

"Not yet little love" Ser whispers. "Three more lines. One."Quick sharp cut, sting and burn, cool wipe with a bit of sting, sharp pain. "Two."  
Heat, sweetness,sharpness, the smell of her own blood in her nostrils again, hunger, pain, a lifting.  
Ser is looking into her eyes. "One more little cub. I know you can, my brave little lioness. "And before Sansa can say anything, there is one final sharp stroke and then Sansa does make a little soft cry but there are no tears, just a shiver. Then she's floating inside.

She feels a kiss on her forehead smells her Ser’s spices feels his head brush her cheek. "So well done little love, so proud of you" he smiles, kissing her, bringing pleasure to the sharp, strange beautiful feelings that she has, the smell of blood hanging sweetly in the air.

"My sweet little cub should see how pretty she is" Ser Jaime murmurs, dabbing her cuts with liquor, wiping her lion clean of blood. Sansa still makes faces and Ser Jaime’s smile is all warmth at it. He picks up a delicate hand mirror and Sansa turns her head as he wipes it clean again. 

There is a lion written in Sansa’s flesh written in her blood. Her heart is racing her thighs damp and her lips only able to smile and sigh "ah Ser, ah Serrrrr. "

Ser Jaime kisses her on the lips. "Very brave. Very strong. Good little cub, brave little lioness." Sansa glows inside. Ser Jaime watches a few drops fall, slide along her arm. He smiles sharply and sweetly whispering "mine," licking them from the crook of her elbow, coming up for a quick taste of her tongue, leaving her to savor her own blood as he cleans, salves, bandages her lion. Sansa looks sad. "Don’t worry sweet girl, we’ll take it off tomorrow, so you can see how pretty you are. " Sansa sighs, trying to sit up. "Careful" Ser takes her hand and presses a cup into it." Drink". It’s sweet, sugary, blackberry, juice from the gardens, Sansa drains it. "Good girl." her Ser smiles, passing her a slice of bread and Sansa knows she has to eat it all while Ser tidies, removing basins, bandages, salve, taking the sheet from the table and putting it with the laundry.

"Mmmmmm" Sansa moans. Ser Jaime looks at her and laughs, rumbling low in his throat. "Ah, my-my little cub sounds very happy." He comes over to sit next to her putting his arm around her, her head on his chest. Sansa sees a few red drops and licks at them like something sweet." I was going to ask if you could do more, but I think my little girl can, can’t she? " Sansa smiles and keeps licking. "Ah": Ser sighs. "Good." He lifts her up gently into the bed. "On your back-I know you can do that." her Ser laughs and Sansa smiles. Ser reaches over to the bedside, straddles her. He growls.  
"My little girl, below me, mine, damn any heavens they have, I want this. "  
He reaches down to kiss Sansa slowly, feeling himself achingly hard, Sansa feeling her head spinning with delight. 

Ser Jaime presses Sansa on her back. "Hold still, sweet girl," then faster than she can blink there are small slashes above each of her breasts, starting to drip. Ser Jaime growls with feral hunger, licks the blood as it drips along her breast, moaning. He reaches up, slices his chest, perfect lines of red and slow drips curving along his muscles, red tips on some of his golden hair, his mouth smeared red like a child with fruit. "Mine" he growls. "my Sansa, my little cub, my wolf-girl" and he can’t help but dives to her breast again to lick at the pooling blood. Sansa cries out in sweetness, her whole body shaking, slow drip from her cunt." Mmmmm". Ser growls, "my little girl likes it." he whispers I can taste your whole life inside me-my little cub lets me drink right from her breast, cut her open because she loves it too. You love having your Ser taste you everywhere don’t you? " Sansa sighs "yesssss"He growls lower, licking again. "Wonderful. Even your blood is sweetness" his voice drops to a whisper "if I could I’d take from you every day, let my sweet little prey lie back and feed her lion," Sansa moans and sighs and squeals past words trembling with pleasure as Ser Jaime smears streaks of his own blood across her cheeks putting his reddened fingers to her lips "lick my little sweetheart, clean your Ser taste"; Sansa licks and licks, mouth full of copper, sweetness, frenzy, she cries out without words opening her mouth.

"Does my little cub want a taste from her Ser?" he smiles. "Yes she does. Lick, taste all you want my little girl, of course you do you’re a little hunter too..."  
then Sansa’s mouth is on the blood dripping from his wound and it’s Ser Jaime who can barely speak, feeling himself flow out into Sansa’s eager mouth, seeing her bloodied and sweet, red streaks on her pretty breasts and belly feeling her shudder again as she licks "ohhhh" her sweet face like a fierce animal’s with reddened teeth and Ser Jaime presses her head again yes my little love, yes my cub drink good girl you’re one of us now, no one can say no, not ever you have our blood in you "you’re ours, you’re mine, mine, good cub."  
She pulls up and kisses him then--dear gods-passing drops of his own blood back into his mouth and Ser Jaime almost comes from that alone. "Hands and knees" he growls, strangling, losing control losing words, the heady scent of blood and cunt and Ser Jaime’s lost his own name, only able to snarl and growl and want. Sansa’s wiggling back against him trying to slip him in, rubbing, growling but he grabs her hips, biting the back of her neck to make her mind and it’s then she submits, letting him sheathe himself in her. Ser Jaime groans and growls as he feels her softness and wetness envelop him thinking only in a hot fog everything blood, girl, cunt.  
Seeing the streaks of blood on her back just maddens him, snarling louder as he fills her.  
Sansa feels him inside her fucking slow, deep and hard, tightening around his cock moaning and panting in pleasure, feeling possessed and adored, owned and wild tasting her Ser’s blood on her mouth and lips all the while that steady slow deep fucking "mating" she thinks and it is the last word she has for a long time. She pants in pleasure as he slides deep inside her and the slow steady fucking and the taste of blood, the feel of his teeth on her neck. She bares her teeth, growls with each stroke and is rewarded with soft licks on her face, harder pushes of his cock inside her, and as she makes low soft howls, she shudders in pleasure she’s got him inside her hot and sweet and blooded and that’s all that matters. She howls again and he answers, pulling at her red hair fucking so slow and deep he nor she can barely stand it barely wait.

Ser reaches down between her legs, where they are joined, playing with her pearl, rubbing just as she likes it, her little yips and squeals and hot dark scent and he feels her shake inside, her fluids pouring onto his blood-stained fingers. He presses his fingers to his lips then to hers to taste their mingled fluids and blood, feeling her sweet pointed pink tongue lick them clean. He can’t help it but fucks harder, deeper, primal, a beautiful raging beast, growling and roaring, leaning over to lick her lips and kiss her as she does to him their bloods mingling suddenly the raw need in him, mating, to get a child on her now, now, now, she’s so ready for a beautiful cub, his cub, her sweet and full it makes him burn his love’s so slick and if he pours himself into her, all of him and 

Sansa’s yelping and howling and bliss, one hand working her pearl while her lion fucks her and everything tastes like blood and heat and firey sweetness and gods how she wants his seed all the way in her feeling her body beg for it, milking him they are such beautiful animals, they would make such beautiful cubs for their pride begging in her mind that her belly swell after this, his sharp toothed smile as he strokes her rounded belly, her Ser coming to her for milk and blood, to sate his hunger on her because his teeth are in her throat and their pride, all theirs, she loves him and he owns her loves her, howling her love and devotion, and she can’t hold back but cries out wordlessly as he

buries himself in her up to the stones sheathed so deep , bodies smeared with blood and kisses and it’s as his little mate raises her head to howl that he roars, coming deep inside her, so hard and so deep he shudders, feeling now like it’s she who’s drinking him dry, even as her pleasure floods him slick and wet and he thrusts again body trembling eyes rolling as they collapse, him now heavy and exhausted on top of her,sticky with blood and fluids not wanting to be apart not yet. Ser tenderly starts licking at her face to clean it, she purrs, licking at his till their faces are only reddened from pleasure and not from blood, rubbing their heads together, blood and gold breathing in each other’s breath Sansa shuddering one last time as they collapse.

Ser comes slowly back stroking her hair, untangling it-she has red sticky bits in it as well, but that’s all right, he doesn’t mind. "mine" he whispers, "my Sansa my little cub, my wolf-girl"

"mine" Sansa whispers back, "my Ser, my Jaime, my lion"

and they drowse together in warmth and sweetness for a long time, till it’s time for Sansa’s moon tea and bandaging up their tiny wounds and Ser Jaime’s already flicked off the spare sheet so it’s warm and dry. Sansa curls up in her Ser’s arms, feeling him nuzzle into her neck. 

"will my lion be pretty tomorrow?" she murmurs sleepily. 

"I promise you I will." Ser Jaime laughs softly.  
"The one on your arm will be pretty, too.Not permanent but pretty."  
Sansa looks slightly crestfallen until Ser strokes at her right thigh. "That’s for here." He smiles.

"I have something special for my little cub when we all go home." Sansa’s eyes brighten and his do too as he whispers

 

"Our smiths are working for me" he pauses to kiss her long and slowly, feeling her melt into him "on a brand perfect for my sweetest of cubs. Delicate, beautiful, fierce, just like you". Sansa’s eyes are wide with delight and joy, her grabbing and kissing him, "yes oh yes Ser. I’m glad you like the idea wolf-girl. Your thigh can only be more beautiful with it. Going home soon" he says  
"I’d be a poor Ser if I let my girl leave the Rock without a perfect gift."

(Ser Jaime quivers with excitement at the the daydream of their little pride leaving with something else for his little cub, he and her Lady mating with her again and again, his seed (but all their child damn what anyone says) in her growing all the way, watching her glow and despite exhaustion he nearly comes again.) 

Ser Jaime gets out of bed for a moment, reaches for something hanging on a peg, brings it back wrapping Sansa warmly and softly in snowy white. "Perfect". he whispers. Sansa trembles with joy--and Ser Jaime wipes away her tears, turning his head away. Goodnight my princess, my sweet little cub he whispers. "Goodnight my Ser, my lion" her words trail off as she sleeps. "Goodnight, my best of all girls" Ser Jaime follows, holding her close as they both dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only time I have ever felt compelled to add a caveat--if you should ever want to do a decorative cutting or intense blood play please, please learn about it before you do.There are classes available if you are in a city, there's also material you can read. This is a sexy fantasy, but is not and should not be considered a how to. Blood-play can be dangerous, so be aware of blood-borne pathogens and diseases like HIV and hepatitis, learn your information and then if you wish have bloody fun aware of risks and without getting or causing permanent injury to you or your partner.  
> SFSI phone lines here for a start: http://sfsi.org/resources/hotlines/


	38. Interlude: Dornish Morning (Lady, LadyxCub, SerxCubxLady)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Queen armors.
> 
> Messages.
> 
> Golden daydreams.

Cersei is in her dressing gown, putting salve on her hands, oiling herself with lavender, piling on her jewels like armor before the day begins when she sees a letter on the table.

She opens it--and for the next few minutes she smiles, her forehead furrows followed by a faint smile nd then she’s daydreaming of the sea, sand, shells damp and sandy not just in a velvet box far away almost able to taste the salt on the air. She thinks of lying in front of the fire, warming herself while her girl brushes her hair just the way she likes, Ser Jaime’s head in her lap, everything rich and golden with pleasure. Cersei allows herself a smile, a slight shake of her head.

 _Little hellions_ she thinks, _my little hellions_ planning to send an extremely discreet servant for the wolf-girl, ensure that their guard is likewise discreet and well paid to make sure her loves can get to the Rock safely, have their pleasures along the way and not be taken in by some local smallfolk for disturbing the peace. It is the lioness’ role to keep the pride in line whether it is gentle or an occasional scruff of the neck. Cersei doesn’t mind having to do the second now and then.

After that she can laugh.

She reads the last few lines and smiles, her eyes sparkling. Hellions they are, but utterly hers--yet Cersei wants no part of a forge, not for this. Instead, she starts thinking of other smiths, something firm and strong-yet beautiful, golden. Perfect.

Since there is no one with her, Cersei presses her lips to the x’s and the single heart feeling lighter inside even as she has to shield herself for the day ahead. She smooths her face to marble, pins the letter to the inside of her smallclothes and feels lighter, thinking that after this she may actually be going home.

Cersei Lannister simply thinks she feels different, better this morning, thinks perhaps she's used to the heat, perhaps she feels less out of place, perhaps the market sounds interesting after all.

Others would call it hope.


	39. Prelude: The Rest of the Night Before Dorne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fairy tale.
> 
> A secret.
> 
> Sleep.

“Tell me a story, little dove.”

“Once upon a time there was a little girl who had golden hair and eyes like spring leaves...” 

“Not that part. Comb my hair, sweet girl?”

“I’ll use my fingers so it doesn’t hurt. You won’t have a single knot, Your Grace”

“I’m so tired.”

“I know. Here, I’ll start, Your Grace.”

“Once upon a time there was a Queen. She was as beautiful as sunlight and emeralds and blazed like the heart of wildfire itself. She was fire and beauty and all things that flame brightly. She had a beautiful brother who was woven of gold and deep green forest pools and they were beautiful. The sun itself was jealous of them and coveted their beauty. And the sun laid traps for them. 

Men smothered her brother in a white cloak and took him away-she tried to follow him and though she tried her hardest could not. She swallowed her tears so they would never see and every one she swallowed burned like poison. They wrapped her in icy bonds that burned her bright skin and they tore out her lion’s heart with knives of gold. They tried to cut out her tongue but she grew it back every night no matter what they did. They set her in cage within cage of gold and blood and sorrow, beset with thorns. And yet she lived even though she tore herself to pieces every day.

And one day her tongue did not come back.

Her brother, her true love, came to her and lay beside her cage, holding her hand through the bars. “My love, how can I save you?” She tried to speak and blood poured from her mouth. The moon gave her silver and in the dark she made a silver tongue and sharpened it with thorns. 

The sorrow was that she could walk and see and speak but there were always cages around her that no one saw. She never stopped fighting. And she armed herself with the thorns.  
And her brother, her true love came singing to her, “My love, how can I save you?” And she was not the Queen of sunlight and emeralds but a fury of thorns and teeth still closed in cage after cage. “

“Just a moment, my Lady, I need a sip of water. There, let me rub your hands, my Lady. It’s lavender, your favorite.”

“And men and women were dashed to pieces on her thorns and she was proud to see them fall. And her brother, her true love came to her and sang, My love how can I save you? And she could not answer.

“Hold me, close little dove. Like that. I’ll finish, you’ve done so well.”

“One day, she saw a girl frozen in a block of ice, blue-lipped and cold, starved for light. The Queen sent armies to bring her forth and they brought her the girl, tears frozen on her face, her face like a statue. “Wake up!” the Queen said. “Wake up!” And she scratched at the ice with her thorns, and she shouted and wailed like madness itself because nothing she could do would melt the ice and free the girl she wanted so much. 

Then inside the cold girl stirred. She felt a glow of sunlight, like hearing a voice from far away and she strained inside her cold, cold prison. She tried to open her eyes and she couldn’t. 

The Queen roared all through seven days and seven nights. And for seven days and seven nights the girl’s frozen eyes tried to follow the tiny spark of her light.”

“You’re crying. Do you want me to stop?  
“No, Your Grace. I want to hear how it ends.”  
“Very well, little dove.”

“And the girl was perfect like a doll even with her blue lips. When the Queen could roar no more she looked at the frozen girl. She looked and wished and kissed her frozen lips. The girl did not move and the Queen’s long-gone phantom heart broke again. And her brother, her true love, bloodied and broken from fighting to reach her came to the girl made of ice to find his Queen.  
And he sang “My love, how can I save you?” And the Queen knew.

She and her brother held the girl of ice between them--and the sun returned to their bodies and turned the ice to water, turning the girl’s hair to a red river. And they each kissed the girl. She gasped like she had drowned and coughed and coughed till the last piece of ice flew from her throat.

And she kissed them back. All the cages around the Queen burst, the thorns fell from her hands and she shone like the sun again. holding her brother, her true love’s hand. And her tongue came back, her voice like bells ringing as it was meant to be.

But the Queen had a hole where her heart should be, where it had been torn, only tiny scraps. For the first time she looked close to tears but bit them back.. And the frozen girl said “Let me.” And her brother, her true love said “My love, I can save you.”

And they each took half their hearts and put them inside the Queen and they formed a new heart for her. The last cage fell and the Queen fell into their arms. And she remembered she was a lioness again, and a creature of sunlight and beauty. And she laughed at the sun and said “You will not conquer me again. “ And her brother, her true love kissed her. And the cold girl-who was cold no more-kissed her back.

They built a world out of kisses. The cold girl grew gold and claws and they were together forever. And the sun knew it could not conquer them. They were all the most beautiful of lions-and they hunted together in the day and slept together in the darkness. And there were no more cloaks or thorns or cages or ice and they were brighter than the sun itself--and it lit their way, jealous no more. And they were never imprisoned again but they were free and strong and beautiful.”

“I love when we tell this story. It’s beautiful, my Lady, Your Grace.”  
“Come now. It’s time to sleep. Curl up in my arms, my own little dove and close your eyes till morning.”  
“I love you, your Grace.”  
Only soft breath and three squeezes on her hand. but the girl knows what it is. When the girl is asleep the Queen whispers in the smallest voice possible, in darkness silent but for breath:  
“I love you too, little dove.”  
The lioness nestles her cheek to the wolf’s russet pelt and both of them sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My amber cage had an amber lock  
> And the good girl a key of her own  
> She set me free with a shining smile  
> And far from all cages we roam.  
> -SJ Tucker “Manticore’s Lullabye”
> 
> Inspired by this song which is about a completely different book, but is still beautiful.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihDdgNSYQ74


	40. Medicine (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa hurts.
> 
> Ser Jaime heals.
> 
> Sweetness.

Ser Jaime Lannister is back at his rooms, shedding his uniform when he notices that his wolf-girl is not on her cushion and that there are only a few candles lit. “Wolf-girl, my little cub, are you here?”

He hears a tiny groan and looks at his bed to see a fan of red hair on the pillow and his Sansa curled up, face creased in pain. Ser Jaime is suddenly worried. “Wolf-girl, are you ill?, He pauses, waiting to pull off his boots in case he needs to run for a maester, worried.

“No.” she whispers and he can tell she’s trying hard not to cry. “I hurt”. 

“Where, sweet girl?” he asks, stroking at her hair. She is silent for a moment then he notices that in addition to two of his dirty shirts (which makes his heart beat a bit faster, he knows if she’s alone she loves snuggling clothing with his scent) his wolf-girl is clutching a pillow to her abdomen .  
Ser Jaime suddenly understands. He removes his gloves and slips off his boots. He comes to curl up next to Sansa in bed, spooning behind her. Ser Jaime holds Sansa as gently as possible, tenderly stroking her hair. He can see her face smooth a little, can tell it’s easier for her being when she’s being held. 

“Shhhh wolf-girl. Your Ser’s here. I’ll help you.” Sansa blinks. “I’m sorry.”  
Ser Jaime smiles. “It’s all right. I do know about this.I have a sister, you know.” He smiles, his breath soft on Sansa’s neck and gives her a gentle, tiny nuzzle.  
Sansa manages a tiny weak smile.  
“What a wicked moon it is to cause my little girl such pain. Nothing’s to hurt my lovely little cub except me.” Ser Jaime growls. “I’ll make it pay for its crime.”  
Sansa smiles a bit wider even though she makes another face after.  
“I’m going to help you feel better.” he murmurs into her ear.

Ser Jaime gets up, pours a tiny glass of strong wine, holds it with Sansa “Drink this, all of it.” and Sansa does, licking at the last drops, feeling the warmth soak into her body. “Mmmm” she sighs.”Thank you Ser.” He curls back up in bed with her, stroking her hair, rubbing along her neck and scalp. “I’ll get you some tea in a bit-raspberry, chamomile, lady’s mantle, that will help.”  
He kisses her gently on the ear. “But I’d like to help you with the pain another way, if you’d want that.” 

Sansa looks at him with eyes full of puzzlement, briefly less focused on pain her mouth again set in a line though he can tell she’s curious.

“Yes, Ser” she says. “Anything.”

“Poor little cub.” murmurs Ser Jaime, moving so he’s on his side, her on her back, holding her, gently stroking her arms, hands delicately over her breasts as he looks in her eyes to see if if it’s all right, only the gentlest touch. He avoids her pained belly, cupping his hand over her cunt.  
Sansa whispers “You don’t have to, it’s messy."  
Ser Jaime whispers. “I’m not afraid of that-and I’d be a poor Ser to let my little cub suffer so.” He moves his hand back and forth, stroking, moving softly till Sansa is breathing lower, softer. She reaches for him and he gently moves her hand back. “This is just for you today, only for you. Enjoy it and feel good for me.” Ser smiles, looking at her face which is already softening, her breath coming a little gentler. “Good, good girl.” he whispers, slowly and gently working his hand,

He breathes softly in her ear. “Would my little girl like to hear the secret story she told me the other night-the one that made you so nice and wet and made you squirm?” Sansa smiles “Yes, Ser, yes.”, slowly rocking back against his hand.

“Well, a certain naughty little girl wants to put on one of those too-tight blue dresses again and put her hair in braids.” Ser Jaime begins. Sansa smiles, her hips starting to roll. “And those braids will look so pretty around my hand.” He pauses. “With gloves. I know my little cub loves those.” He gives her a tiny kiss on the forehead. He whispers “and I promise to be very wicked.”  
Sansa sighs sweetly as he begins.

“Let’s see-my poor little darling is stuck in the cold North and your family is terribly indebted to mine. He grins. “Absolutely terribly.” 

Sansa herself is surprised when she giggles, feels a twinge of pleasure come to combat the pain. Ser Jaime thinks for a moment. “I’m sent and of course, need to negotiate, to remind them of their terrible debt which of course they must pay immediately-and I ask for your father’s most prized treasure, which he promised me for my aid. And he brings me iron and salt and weapons and the Stark jewels (Ser Jaime bites his lip.)...but I see right through that, don’t I?”  
His fingers start exploring her petals, lightly touching their silkiness, feeling her body shift up toward his fingers. Ser Jaime feels very pleased. 

“I see you hidden in the back.” Ser Jaime purrs. “All in that little girl’s dress and those braids, looking so sweet and delicious I just want to bite into you right there”-a soft caress along her neck, Sansa’s pleased sigh. “And of course I demand you-and say that there are armies and other things if he doesn’t.-and that my men will make sure he cooperates.” Sansa smile’s brightens.”They offer me everything, even Winterfell itself and I say no, that I know exactly what I want and only that will satisfy the debt.”

“And he has no choice but to give you to the dreadful, wicked Lannister.” Ser Jaime purrs. Sansa giggles and yes-squirms. “And of course my little wolf-girl gets all sticky and sweet when she’s scared in the right way doesn’t she?” He rubs slowly, caressing her lips, her petals, brushing one fingertip over her pearl. “Good, little love?” he whispers looking into her blue eyes with his emerald ones. Sansa nods, smiling. 

“Excellent.” murmurs Ser Jaime who likes this tale very much himself. “There is no choice-you’re given to the most wicked, terrible, dangerous, absolutely worst Lannister himself--a sweet little morsel given to such a fierce lion.” Sansa sighs with delight, moving with him slowly as he works his fingertip around her pearl. _Very good_ he thinks. _She’s feeling better already._

Upon reflection, Ser Jaime can only be grateful to the Northerners for making his wolf-girl so frightened of and lusciously excited by Lannisters. Perhaps one day he’ll send them a proper gift to show his thanks.

“I pick you right up like you’re my bride and carry you to the nicest bedroom- hmm, that would be the Lord and Lady’s. Too bad for them.” he grins. Sansa squeals. “And you’re trembling and soft in my arms looking up at me with those big blue eyes but I can feel your heart beating so fast and the way you’ve already put your arms around my neck-and mine is too because I have the finest prize I could ever dream of.” He smiles. “The sweetest little wolf-girl who I intend to ruin while all her home can hear, in the Lord and Lady’s own bed.” He pauses. “I know they could all hear. Everything.” 

Sansa squeaks with delight, rubbing back against his fingers, Ser Jaime briefly worried that if she gets more excited he may have to explain a broken wrist though it’s a risk worth taking if it helps his wolf-girl. “Then I toss you onto the furs and lie next to you telling you that I own you now and I’m going to ruin you" he grins. “and your eyes are all sweet and nervous but you’re so excited it just makes me hard--and you look up at me and give me the tiniest, sweetest little kiss on the lips, like the gentlest maiden in a song and smile at me.” He growls. “I could almost come from that you know.” He purrs. “ and I kiss you back, lick at your pretty lips with my tongue until they part”--he grins “and I’m inside you for the first time and you taste as sweet as summer wine. Ser Jaime purrs in pleasure. " I’m feeling you press into me and hug me tight because you’re such a good girl.”He groans as Sansa sighs,her eyes fluttering. “ Ser Jaime murmurs "Mmmmm. I do wish I had gotten to do that the first night I was there. I was very lonely. So was your Lady. “ 

Then he laughs. “And so were you, naughty girl.”  
Sansa wriggles, he can tell the pain is getting better but he wants to be sure it goes, even if just for a bit. He growls “And I bar the door to make sure ruining you is not interrupted, even though my guards are there. Must be sure I have time to properly appreciate your father’s -now my-dearest treasure. And I just have to pull your hair, bringing you to me so I can give you a nice long kiss, show you how a proper man kisses a lady-and you’re so naughty you’re kissing back, slipping in your pretty tongue, wriggling like you do when you feel good so we strip off that dress.” Ser Jaime is agonizingly hard.  
He groans “and I’m kissing your pretty breasts, so pale and pink, delicious.” He slips a finger around her pearl, looping again and again, soft, slick.”Such a good little girl. You’re taking your medicine so well for your Ser.”

He shakes his hand for a moment to make sure he doesn’t cramp, then slips it back to find Sansa softer and very willing.

“Oh yes, such a good girl. And I leave your hair in those sweet, long braids,” he kisses her then whispers “because I want to tug on them later when I teach you to suck my cock.” Sansa makes small, happy gasping noises.  
‘But anyway---on the Lord and Lady’s own bed, I’ve got you on your back for the first time and you’re making such sweet little noises as I start to lick your pearl...” he pauses “One might think a certain little girl was very ready to be ruined, especially by such a wicked man.” Sansa laughs and sighs with pleasure and Ser Jaime is hopeful-

“I’d have to be sure I lashed your pearl with my tongue as often as I could-I’d want to have a nice long time to savor my first taste of my sweet girl-I think feeling your legs wrap around my head would be wonderful and oh, the noises you’d make. You are such a loud little cub but it pleases me so. I’d have to make you come again and again till my face was nice and wet -- you are like a river of honey, my little love. I’d make sure you’d come at least-at least-four times before I let you go so my new treasure would be begging for mercy for her poor little pearl.” 

He grins. “However, it would never be safe again, not as long as I have fingers and tongue and lips.” Sansa laughs bucking up against him and he tries to ignore for a bit the fact that he is so hard, focusing on his girl, her pain.

“Feeling a little better?” “Yes Ser, Yes.” “Good.”

“Now then-I’ve gotten to know your pretty cunt with its lovely red curls and I would want to be inside my little girl so very much--and I know how much you like having all of Winterfell hear that.” Sansa gasps and wriggles and squeals, Ser Jaime’s hand trying to keep up. “I’d give you nice sweet kisses, let you stroke my cock, have you lie on your back so you could curl up tight around me and know you’re mine---and with one nice long slide I’d be inside you.” Sansa moans and Ser Jaime speeds up his fingers, circling her petals, around her pearl, making her gasp “ruined you just like that--and they’d all hear you crying out how good it felt and how happy you were. It would hurt the tiniest bit but you’d be a brave girl and you’d feel so much happier after a moment or two.”  
Sansa’s rocking back and forth,whimpering in pleasure. Ser Jaime is delighted. “I know you like these stories because you’re a naughty girl.” he whispers “You like someone dangerous coming in to teach you very bad things that you really love. I’m such a lucky man.’

“Now where were we? I’d just spilled your maiden’s blood, fucking in and out of your slippery, lovely little cunt, working you with my fingers just like this” rolling her pearl, and his voice drops to a whisper “and you’re so sweet and tight and wet that I just want to spend but I also want you to scream so they can hear. ‘ Sansa shivers with delight, murmuring “ah, ah” as Ser Jaime’s fingers rub and stroke “and you’d be wrapping those lovely long legs around me because you’d be my naughty girl then, one who’s wanted to be filled up for so long and you are crying out and so sweet looking into my eyes, my greatest treasure now, my very own little wolf-girl. I’ve claimed you and you love it.” He grins. “And so do I.” Ser Jaime rubs just a bit harder, feeling Sansa arch her back to reach up. “You’d be lying on your back howling, grabbing onto my back, so happy with every stroke of my cock. Delicious.” Sansa groans, moves up and down against his fingers. Ser Jaime smiles, kissing along her cheekbone, nibbling her earlobe, whispering “and my naughty little cub would be crying out for more so loudly they could hear you-everywhere.”

“Yesyesyes.” murmurs Sansa, squirming again under his fingers. “Could I yell...that?”  
Ser Jamie ponders a moment then smiles.  
“Of course, little love. It’s how you first knew me after all.”  
Ser Jaime knows that his little wolf-girl spent many cold nights alone in the North rubbing herself to that name after a song or two. In here he doesn’t mind. 

He desperately wants to turn on top of her and play this game properly , but instead works the tip of a finger at the front of her cunt so she sighs harder. “Yesss.” Sansa whispers. “ Would make sure I yelled as loudly as I could for the Kinglsayer to take me, ruin me more”. she looks into Ser Jaime’s emerald eyes, breath coming harder “because I’m yours, now, you’ve taken me I belong to you.” Sansa whispers. “Forever-and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.” Ser Jaime groans, thrusting against her, softer, gentler than usual but enough to enjoy it.“Yes,” he whispers. “Forever and ever.” Sansa moans. 

“ And I couldn’t help it any more but would just spend deep inside you-you love the way that feels don’t you?” Sansa nods gasping “and my little girl” he grins-”the wicked Kingslayer’s own little girl” Sansa cries out sweetly, he’s rubbing harder “... would be dripping, my seed inside her pretty cunt and crying my name so loud that her parents would tremble and gasp in fear and despair, knowing that she was so happy to be undone by Ser Jaime Lannister, was screaming for him.” “Oh they’d hate that.”Sansa gasps, panting harder, rolling her hips. Ser Jaime's smiling at how she’s feeling better, loving the way she moves under his fingers, the soft flush in her cheeks, the little shivers in her body, the way she’s crying out in the higher notes that he knows means she’ s very close. He growls, rubbing at her softly, whispering:

“Yes, little love. Then I’d put my collar on you, red leather with golden lions, just like my loveliest hunting bitch and carry you out in my arms like the little princess you are. Think of them-- staring, shocked that their little girl is so very ruined and naughtier than they ever dreamed. " He grins." I'd say farewell to Ned. Make sure to tell him that I'd have a bastard in your belly right away"--he smiles--"oh that made you squeal little love"--” Sansa wriggles, pants happily, thrusts her hips. Ser Jaime smiles to watch her. " Can you imagine the look on his face when he sees that, sees you kiss me so sweetly after I say that? Oh, you can." Sansa writhes, gasping“ "yes, Ser, yes" her face flushed, her breath coming harder. Ser Jaime purrs "...you’d give me such sweet kisses as I carried you out, my naughty dirty delicious little ruined girl.” He grins wickedly. "My little girl who probably has my bastard growing in her already after such a lovely time on your parents' bed..." Sansa howls with delight, gasping, rocking hard against her Ser's hand , her body arching, her face bright and flushed (he pauses to think of how luscious she looks right now, to enjoy it) . He purrs into her ear “Come hard for your Ser you my wolf-girl, my cub, my little love."--and she does, hard, panting, crying out and then he works her harder, faster until- 

Sansa makes a soft muffled cry, gasping, twitching all over, breathing heavily. “Good girl,” he purrs. Ser Jaime works her pearl harder until she cries out twice more, then collapses. He strokes her hair, her back, curls around her, holding her softly again. 

“There we go. Does my little cub feel better now?”  
Sansa smiles, feels almost no pain for the first time in what seems like the entire day. “Oh yes, Ser, so much better.” He notices she’s not gripping the pillow and is stretched out, peaceful, relaxed. “ Good” he whispers. “We’ll do this again after you’ve had your tea, so you can sleep nicely. Sweet girl”. He leans close to breathe in the warm scent of her hair, the delicate musk of her skin, nuzzling against her, rubbing his head against hers. “My sweet cub, my little wolf-girl.”

Sansa purrs a tiny bit and it is a pleasure to hear. She half-turns to look at him. “Then what?” she grins. Ser Jaime grins back. “You are a naughty little girl, aren’t you? ”He thinks for a moment. “Then I tie your hands and feet and sling you over my saddle, take you away and we ride fast like the wind to all kinds of terrible, wonderful adventures.” 

Sansa smiles with delight and Ser Jaime can’t resist.  
“And then there are lemon cakes.” 

In his arms, Sansa laughs warm and sweet, rubs her head against his as he rubs hers back, gold and ruby in the soft light.  
Ser Jaime decides his sore wrist was well worth it. He stretches. “You lie there and think about that-I’ll bring you your tea.” He does, she drinks and he lies beside her until she falls asleep, kisses her, walks over to the table to quietly write a few more letters.Ser Jaime hopes she feels better soon-he can’t wait to pull her braids and make her gasp-but in this case he has patience. He sighs happily, enjoying the crackle of the fire, the soft light of the candles and the gentle breath of his little cub, at last sleeping in peace.


	41. Interlude: A Daydream (LadyxCub, SerxLadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warm afternoon.
> 
> An uninvited daydream.
> 
> Cersei the warrior.

The Queen does not allow herself to daydream, not any more. Fancies are for other women. However, they are starting to come unbidden. She has one precious hour before a ladies gathering--more handicrafts and gossip. Cersei hopes against hope they won’t be painting pottery. She lies on her strange bed in the warm Dornish afternoon and her mind wanders. She thinks it must be catching from her true love and her little dove, closing her eyes and allowing it to be present:

Cersei Lannister sits in a chair by the fire in the grandest bedroom in Casterly Rock, her finger tracing the rim of her wine glass. On the floor by the fire, her spouses are wrestling and biting at each other, the little cub nipping at her lion’s ear, scrambling away on hands and knees in a blur of red and white, then with a snarl and a smooth rippling of ivory and gold he is on her. He bites at her neck scruffing her until she wriggles free, laughing and growling as the golden lion pins her to the floor. Slowly, Sansa (her wife, her wife) rolls over showing her soft rounded belly, her full pale breasts, her neck bare but for the chain of Lannister gold Cersei put on her so long ago, legs falling open to reveal red curls, her soft cunt, the lion branded on her thigh.

Cersei allows herself a shiver of delight to look at that- the girl’s always been a Lannister and she’s theirs now, by seed and blood and marriage-one that may not have been blessed by a septon but Cersei and her spouses don’t mind one bit about that. The Lioness of Lannister regards it as more real than any other marriage she’s ever been in-after all, she’s the one who quietly took the first piece of gold mined at the Rock, took it to a smith and firmly requested three bands, with three strands of gold entwined, yes three, and they had best be exquisite. Perfect.

After all, she had replaced the gold with a piece mined the previous day. No one knew. No one will ever know that the true story of that gold-that it circles her, her husband and wife’s fingers and will be buried with them.  
The story is is what matters, not the actual gold.

Cersei fingers the perfect ring on her finger, running her hand over it, the gold warm in the firelight, feels herself for a moment in Jaime’s body as he’s biting at Sansa’s shoulder as she growls, spreading her legs. Cersei feels her teeth come down, worry at soft flesh and then she’s back as they tussle again. They are such creatures of appetite, but she loves that about them and that they love her with the same hunger.  
She has learned that it is not shameful to be greedy for love and theirs is boundless--she didn’t know how to feel that, but she is learning.

Ser Jaime raises his head from between their Sansa’s legs and kisses her, clearly ready to sink inside her-Cersei presses her thighs together to allow the warmth to rise in her as he slides in and Sansa groans in pleasure. It’s delicious to see them together, a pair of wild animals ready to rut at any moment, laughing and wild and sweet. Hers is the gentle hand that keeps them in line-they feed her love and she guides them, keeps them safe, makes sure that traditions are kept.

Cersei’s the one who got the house cloak from its safe place so Ser Jaime could drape it over her shoulders, then Sansa’s, then both of them. She felt such a relief and lifting of her spirit under the red and gold, wrapping her arm, her own part of the cloak around Sansa and kissing her, tasting the salt of her tears because of course their little princess would cry--and despite wearing a collar, having a brand from her Ser and spending hours licking boots she’d want a dress, something pretty for her finger and to be wrapped warm in her red and gold family cloak.

Cersei’s eyes watered but she was calm though her voice trembled when her brother addressed her as his wife at last at last. That night she cried out with a joy she did not think was possible; they spread out the cloak on their bed, mating fiercely and joyously on it till it was wet through, mating again in a perfect symmetry of arms and legs and lips and bodies. Cersei laughed with joy that night-such a strange bubbling sound. 

She had once said that they were not Targaryens but it had not occurred to her that they might be something else entirely-something that did not exist in this world before, a new kind of lion. Stronger.Braver. Fiercer.Beautiful.

Ser Jaime collapses on Sansa’s breast and Cersei clenches her muscles inside, feels wave after wave break inside her, smiles, her own face flushed. Ser Jaime gets up to kiss his sister, his beloved, his mouth slick and delicious, Sansa kissing the hem of her dress and curling up like a good cub. The lioness guides the pride. Cersei hopes every day she does it well, works hard at it. 

She loves them even if she can’t wrestle playfully on the floor or sneak into a tavern to show off their beauty. Even if she never can, it doesn’t matter, she is theirs. Cersei has her own ways.  
Cersei kisses her husband, strokes her wife’s hair while her wife lies curled on the floor, hair in a red pool around Cersei’s slippers.

It’s the cub-she’s devotion, loyalty the font of boundless love that the Mother should be. Cersei doesn’t want the Mother or the Warrior, but she needs her wolf-girl and her brother, her husband. With every kiss and every touch the fist around her heart starts to unclench. Never go away. Never. 

Ser Jaime kisses along Cersei’s neck as she sighs with pleasure, his hands wrapped in her golden hair. She shivers in expectation, not sure quite where she wants to go yet, but does not yet need to decide, only enjoy.

Cersei dreams now, but there are fewer nightmares--she has daydreams, something new. Her hand on her wife’s hand, golden rings together, kissing her, cradling her as Ser Jaime kisses along their throats, licks along Sansa’s breasts. When Ser Jaime slips into Sansa, it’s Cersei who holds her close and both their legs that wrap around Ser Jaime. Thrust after thrust, Cersei’s finger’s slipping down to her little dove’s pearl to make sure she comes as many times as she can, it’s important. She loves feeling Sansa writhe and squeal and cry out in bliss, all of them together. It’s when Cersei is stroking her girl’s hair whispering “yes love yes”, that Ser Jaime growls, spilling all of himself into Sansa, leaning down to kiss Sansa then Cersei long and slowly There’s a slow shift as Ser Jaime helps Cersei on top of their girl to kiss her, rub against her hard. make her come and cry out again and again, Sansa’s long pale legs wrapped around her lioness. It’s Cersei too who cries out to rest her head on Sansa’s breast, her brother kissing her softly, her wife stroking her golden hair.

(The more a woman comes when she fucks, the more likely she is to quicken. The Lady of Casterly Rock and Ser Jaime are singularly dedicated to this idea.) When Sansa is spent, lying like a limp bit of cloth between them, they sleep, her held between them like a shining treasure. When Cersei dreams again, Sansa’s belly is round with their-their- cub. It’s the truth and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. 

Cersei can hold the younger girl and kiss her, stroke her full belly and breasts, marvel at he loveliness of her fair skin and blue eyes, tell her how beautiful she is and not know fear.  
It is so good to not be afraid.

 

Right now her spouses are holding her at either side. Cersei decides she needs more of that; she puts down the glass and glides over with them towards the bed slowly sliding in with her loves. Later she falls asleep with her beloveds stroking her, caressing her until she is warmth and sweetness and glows from within like golden sunlight. It’s with that warmth that she falls asleep at last and her dreams with her dearest spouses, her little hellions, her pride, her mates are far more beautiful than any words could say.

Cersei dozes softly, dreams of salt air and home.

The Queen opens her eyes, reminds herself it’s just a dream. She smooths herself back to marble and gold, practices a smile. She dabs herself with lavender oil and strides forth to whatever an afternoon of Dornish ladies and crafts may be. Somewhere inside though, her spirit is a little comforted. She won’t say hopeful, but for a moment while she’s polishing her smile, her step is light for a moment, then heavy again like the tread of a warrior. That moment of lightness will haunt her later, curious, but for now she has handicrafts to do for the Seven Kingdoms. She braces herself, shields up and moves on.


	42. Warmth  (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Jaime works.
> 
> Sansa dreams.
> 
> A lion and his cub.

A day of endless letters and Ser Jaime Lannister sits at the table in his room, scratching ink, shaking sand, wanting to curse at it all. Instead, he is quiet.

He doesn’t want to wake her. Not yet.

She’s curled up on her side on her scarlet cushion, her body a pearl curve, her hair flowing out like garnet waves; her lashes flutter, her eyes moving back and forth under her eyelids as she dreams. The golden chain around her ankle shifts and slithers with her slightest movements, pooling on the red silk of the pillow.

Ser Jaime finds any paperwork more rewarding with his little cub chained to his table; pleasant to rest one’s eyes after so much ink on parchment, to study the way her chest rises and falls with her soft breath, to smile at the fact that she inevitably falls asleep in a sunbeam.

Sansa told him once that she wanted to lie on the garden flagstones, take in all the heat from a sunlit day-even though she couldn’t. Manners.  
He’d grinned and told her at home, there were some flat rocks by the sea which did just that--and would not require any clothing that might spoil the experience. She’d laughed and asked if they could go there first.

For now, she has her sunbeams.

In sleep, her foot twitches and she stretches, on her side now, one leg pulled up, the flat of her foot visible. Ser Jaime can’t resist.

He takes a clean quill, slips down by her, starts to brush the feather at her big toe. Sansa’s foot twitches, pulls up and she’s still sleeping. One more gentle brush, another twitch and she’s shifting, revealing the soft curves of her breasts, her pale, lovely skin. Ser Jaime decides he can’t wait another moment, brushes at her toe once more and then he’s won; Sansa has rolled over, rubbing at her eyes, showing her softly rounded breasts and belly, the delicate red fur between her legs. Her eyes open blue and bright.

Ser Jaime drops the quill, growls low in his throat. His hand runs over the curve of her belly, stroking softly, letting her wake to his touch, watching her lips curve into a smile. To his delight, she arches her back and yawns, showing a hint of her soft pink tongue. He growls deeper, very pleased. Leaning closer he can feel Sansa's warm breath on his skin. Leaning in he nuzzles her neck, rubbing his head against her, her rubbing back, scent and breath and sweetness.

He lifts his head, feels her bat against the cord of his shirt. Her eyes are bold and bright at her tiny conquest, her smile wicked. Sansa reaches higher and bats a stray lock of golden hair, smiling in triumph. Ser Jaime nips at her fingers, swatting her away her other hand, growling harder, Sansa’s hips rolling, one leg reaching out to try and touch him. He leans in, snapping at her shoulder, sinking in his teeth, shaking, snarling, getting his cub to mind. Sansa is soon still.  
Ser leans into her again to nuzzle, burying his face in her neck, breathing in her scent--then hears a very sweet sound from low in her throat; his little cub is purring. Ser Jaime can’t help but smile, reach up to run his fingers through her hair, nails lightly at her scalp and ah, she’s purring harder, eyes closed in pleasure, nuzzling at him. He growls sweetly, then stretches it into a warm, golden purr.

He knows she’ll be nipping at him again in a moment, teasing him to see how far she can go. She’ll get in a few bites and scratches before he scruffs her, bites hard and his naughty cub submits because she loves this game too. Before any of that, a perfect moment in the noonday sun; the lion and his little cub lying together, warm, gold on red, purring with infinite sweetness.


	43. Secrets, Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Names for flowers.  
> A garden confrontation.  
> Unveiled.

Sansa has secrets.

One is that she hates the cold; she turns herself to the sun like a flower, feeling it warm upon her face, like she is drinking in the heat before the light is gone. Darkness comes quickly in Winterfell-and there are never quite enough furs or shawls or blankets to keep out icy air.

Sunlight suffuses her in the South, makes her bright and beautiful, imbues her with warmth. There are enough blankets and she is never cold. Sometimes she swears she can taste the sunlight on her Ser’s skin, smell the sunbeams in her Lady’s hair. 

Sansa loves the gardens at the Red Keep; always sunlit and so many flowers, she does not know names for them all yet. She names some like a little girl would. The red lilies that dangle like a string of beads she calls Lady Hearts, the creeping vines with starry purple flowers she calls Violet Crowns, the golden yellow starbursts are Lion-hearts. She lets herself be sentimental here. It feels safe to be sweet.

There are others in the garden, but they do not bother her-a “good morning” here, a “good afternoon” there, then the quiet and sunlight again. 

Today she is tracing a strand of Violet Crowns along the side of a wall, reaching a pale finger to touch a petal, studying it intently, watching how the afternoon light traces patterns across it, shifting it from lilac to blue then back again. 

Sansa feels someone close behind her. She turns, hiding that she’s been startled.

He is a small man with dark hair, dark surcoat, staring at her intently, eyes black like a small bird’s. Sansa does not recognize him, does not know why he would be coming near her.

He is looking at her as she looked at the Violet Crowns. Sansa thinks that were he looking at them he’d want to tear them from their vine, tries to tell herself that it is nonsense to worry but she does. He is still looking.

Sansa does not like this, but tries to keep any fear from her eyes, forms a half smile as her Septa has taught her, nods and says her good afternoon, trying to move along, but this person wants to talk.

“Lady Sansa.” he smiles, beaming as if he knows her, like an uncle, a cousin, someone that close. “Lord Petyr Baelish-I’m sure you remember me.”  
Sansa does not.

“I’ve known your mother since long before you were born, have heard all about you--and it is a delight to have you here in King’s Landing.” He touches her hand, leans forward to kiss it. Sansa feels the hairs on her neck bristle. Being a lady, she cannot jerk away her hand, though she wants to wash it. When he looks up she surreptitiously wipes it on her dress.

“And if I may say so, my Lady, you are the very picture of your mother- red Tully hair, your own dazzling blue eyes-such beauties you both are.” Sansa knows little of intrigue but knows that she does not like this. Sansa stands up tall and tries to be gracious. 

If courtesy is a lady’s armor, Sansa is wrapped in steel.

“How kind of you to say so.” She smiles. “I’m certain my mother will be pleased that you remember her so fondly and send your good wishes. I will put them in my next letter.” 

(If this is intrigue, she far prefers Varys who will occasionally bring her stale bread from the kitchen and sit with her, feeding the carp in the pool, talking of her embroidery, the weather, the swirl of colors of the carp nibbling at the bread. He has not done so for a while. Sansa wonders if this means she is suitably discreet.)

Sansa starts walking faster, the gravel crunching under her feet, but this Lord Baelish keeps pace “...best of friends, knew her before she met your father, ah the Warden of the North, what a strong, fine man people say he is. I am certain your mother is the most gracious of wives, the kindest of entertainers--how is she? Such a wonderful woman, don’t you love her so?”

Sansa does not.  
She wants him to go away, to not talk about her mother or her family or anything in this garden at all.

“And your brothers and sisters, are they happy as well? Such a happy brood, like a children’s story, Cat was born to be such a kind mother.” He stares. “Often such little scamps grow to be the most beautiful.”

He pauses, gazing at her. “The sunlight in your hair is lovely-bright as a Northern sunset.”  
Sansa does not smile.  
(Sansa knows that Northern sunsets are cold steel,rose and lilac. Not red.)  
He looks at her eyes again, smiles and all Sansa can see are teeth.  
“Thank you. You are too kind.” Sansa says firmly.  
He smiles again, leaning towards her, as if he were her confidante. “How sad they’ve kept you away-a sweet, playful girl like you cannot be devoted to duty all the time.”

Sansa says firmly, “My duties here are to Queen and Court and they are most pleasant.” Her half smile is fixed on her face as she tries to step away.

He grins toothily, black eyes glistening, Sansa thinks of the jaws of river pikes and under her smile she is afraid.

“I know your mother would be happy to see those blue eyes sparkle-I’d certainly love to show you all the sights of King’s Landing, the markets, anything you might enjoy.” He pauses, looking sympathetic. “Poor dear, at Court they must keep you chained up. Perhaps you must be rescued from their dungeon.”

He chuckles at his own joke. Sansa snarls on the inside, glad she has her waist chain for a tiny bit of comfort. She wants to be chained on her Ser’s pillow instead of here, walking in the garden with this man. Sansa wants to tear at him, rip at his throat-he’d never understand what it feels like to have Ser’s chains. He’d never deserve anything like them.

Sansa walks faster, hurrying, but he keeps pace, trying to grip at her elbow. She can hear herself trying to volley with words but it is turning to too much, she’s not sure what else she can do except keep walking, try to dodge.

Sansa can’t even see the flowers. Suddenly there is a hand on her arm. Her armor shrinks as if it has become leaves instead of steel. “...and you haven’t seen the Red Keep until you have seen the sculptures in this garden, right down this way.” He stares at her and Sansa does not like what she sees, herself reflected, made small in his dark eyes. No smile in there, not even honest hunger-only a kind of destroying lust that Sansa’s never seen before but wants to be away from.

Sansa looks around to see if there is anyone she can even greet, anyone who can delay her from this path, he’s a Lord and she has to be a lady but please someone-”even Varys with the stale bread” thinks Sansa, “especially Varys with the stale bread.” Sansa’s voice has suddenly frozen still. Instead of rushing, her feet drag on the gravel as she nods, says a word here or there, trying hard to stay in the main garden, trying not to feel foolish, act unladylike but she does not want to go see anything with him. Sansa is suddenly, terribly afraid.

Ser Jaime Lannister is on the way back from his watch.  
As he walks past the garden he catches a flash of red, his little cub’s hair.  
He’ll surprise her. She’s very fond of the garden-and he delights in the way she finds everything beautiful. He smiles, tossing his golden hair and starts to walk in long strides to catch her. Upon seeing her, Ser Jaime notices that she is with a man-Lord Baelish, Ser Jaime can tell him in the blink of an eye-and he has his hand on Ser Jaime’s little cub, trying to snag at her beautiful hair as she jerks her head away. All he can see is a haze of red in front of his eyes, all he can think of hacking off those ugly hands.

He bares his teeth in anger, strides quicker, noticing how Sansa drags her feet, gesturing towards anything to make Lord Baelish stop. 

Ser Jaime trembles with rage, tries to slow his breath, speaking through gritted teeth. “Lady Sansa Stark, what a pleasure.” He bows, his eyes whirling with anger and slowly extends his arm, his emerald eyes locked with Lord Baelish’s black, flat ones. Baelish’s have no grace, just predation. Sansa’s eyes brighten-she grabs her Ser’s arm like she’s been drowning. Sansa’s hand is shaking but she is safe.

Ser Jaime stares at Lord Baelish and Lord Baelish stares back. Sansa can feel Ser tensing, moving his hand closer to his sword. “ Lord Commander. What a pleasant surprise.” Ser looks back staring hard. “Petyr Baelish. Lord Baelish smiles unctuously. “The sights are lovely in the garden today-exquisite.” Lord Baelish smiles, looking at Sansa pointedly and she shrinks inside, feels soiled. “Don’t you have business to attend to?” Ser Jaime snarls, spitting out the word business like poison, glaring at him. “Littlefinger?” 

“One must take time to enjoy the pleasant things in life-otherwise, all work is joyless.” Lord Baelish nods. Sansa feels her Ser breathing harder, angry. “Find your joy elsewhere; you can molest and bother all the girls you want at your business. Not here.” Ser puts a protective arm around Sansa, Sansa thinking it as much to hold him back as it is to comfort her.  
She wishes she could pat him on the arm or hold his hand but she can’t here. Her stomach is churning but she can’t stop looking. 

Lord Baelish raises an eyebrow. “I see. Does Ned Stark know you’ve taken a--shall we say, paternal interest in his daughter? I’d be curious myself about the Kingslayer’s protection of anyone so new to the Red Keep.” He stares at Sansa, suddenly sharp and hostile. “So kind of the Kingsguard to tend to those still wet around the ears. I’m sure Ned knows she’s in good hands.”  
Ser Jaime’s hand moves closer to his sword. 

Lord Baelish stares at Sansa, brazenly examining her shape.  
“One might argue a North country girl might be at her most becoming in a simple grey and white gown.  
Red and gold? Really? Like a little sparrow strutting in peacock feathers?”  
Lord Baelish’s eyes on her have turned from lust to cruelty. Sansa does not look away but stares forward even though there are tears in her eyes which she will not let fall. 

“The Queen finds these colors becoming on Lady Stark.” Ser Jaime growls at Lord Baelish. “As do I. I find the Queen a far better judge than a whoremonger.” He snarls. “I’m certain all your workers are in high-necked homespun gowns, if you find them so alluring. You give the client what he wants, don’t you?”

Lord Baelish stretches, moving forward. “Charming, really, to see the Lord Commander take such care of a tender young girl--they really are sweetest at that age, aren’t they?  
Young enough to be one’s daughter- they say girls like that are enough to make a man feel wild again. Spry. In fine fighting shape.” 

Ser remains still and poised but Sansa can tell he’s clenching his teeth, enraged.

Lord Baelish smiles amiably. “But vows. Such binding, rigid things.” He folds his hands. “And what would your beloved sister say? Wouldn’t she be...cross? What a shame that would be.” Lord Baelish smiles sharply at Ser Jaime. “Such a fine figure of a woman-- her years as Queen have been kind to her.”

There’s a sudden angry spark in Sansa’s head.  
She feels Ser shaking with fury. “Pardon me, Lady Stark. “ he says to her with all the kindness he can muster. Ser Jaime steps in front of Sansa, hand on his sword. “Leave. Leave now before I call every one of the Kingsguard. Apologize to the lady.”

Lord Baelish drops his hands to his sides. “Very well-quite a shame if this is how they treat a friend of the Starks these days. Good afternoon.” He starts to walk away. 

Ser Jaime blocks his path. “Apologize to the lady.” He snarls “Perhaps you’d best mind your affairs rather than the gardens--so many things can happen to small men in such a risky trade.” Ser Jaime smiles sharply as he slowly slides out the top of his blade.  
Lord Baelish lifts his hands, looks sharply at Sansa. “I am sorry, Sansa dear. Please call anytime. Northerners need friends in places like this.” Sansa stares icily, says nothing as she and Ser watch him walk away. 

Ser Jaime turns to her. “I’ll see you to your quarters, my Lady.” As she takes his arm, he shifts so his cloak brushes her fingertips, his eyes tender for a moment, then emerald ice again.

As soon as they have closed and locked the door on his rooms, her Ser’s lips are on hers, kissing her, his hands wrapped in her auburn hair, Sansa curling against his chest, kissing back, feeling a few tears drip down her face. Ser growls. “He’s made you cry.”, dabs at her eye with the edge of his cloak. “No man touches you. Do you understand?” Sansa trembles, silent. “I’d kill anyone who tried to have you, steal your smile from me. You’re mine. No other man’s, no father’s. Mine. My love.” He stares into her eyes, hands curled in her hair as hers are curled in his. “Yes.” Sansa says, looking back. “I’m yours, Ser. Yours.”

Ser stares at her, eyes blazing like wildfire, pulling her into his arms His words sear “my own Red Sister “ against her lips. Sansa trembles, crying out in wordless joy at the sound, his frenzied kiss, grabbing at him, ripping away what she can. Ser kisses hard, her ivory teeth tearing at his lips until he growls, pushing her hard onto the bed.

Ser’s rolling up her dress, Sansa working at his breeches, till he fills her, fast, fucking joyously, Sansa wrapping her legs like a vise around him, pulling hard at his spun gold hair, biting, making him thrust harder, harder so she’ll bruise.

“My golden brother” she whispers, radiant, “my love”. He groans,slamming into her, kissing so hard her lips bleed copper. She claws his back red and bloody, squeezing him so tight inside her that he growls in joy, fucking so hard he can barely breathe.  
She grips his body, pressing herself to his damp skin, fucking back roughly enough that she’s dizzy till she howls, shaking in pleasure.  
He roars, pouring into her, slick and wet and sweet, his lips soft, breath warm as he falls against her breast. She strokes his hair as he shudders, her fingers running through the golden waves,her eyes and fingertips salt as the sea.

He rises, breathes deep, kisses the remains of the tears from her eyes, tonguing her, a bright lion gently cleaning his little cub. She purrs, warm as he nuzzles her neck, batting at a stray blonde hair. He growls, pinning her down as she wriggles, nipping at his arm. She rolls, he claws at her shoulder, sharp nip at his chest before she’s pressed under his weight, his teeth at the scruff of her neck. “Mind, little sister.” Ser growls. “Mind.”  
She lies still, him shaking her neck just a little bit more, to remind her who’s in charge. They lie together for a few moments, Ser rolling off her to lie beside her, stroking her neck to hip. Sansa is suddenly thoughtful, very silent. “Are you all right, little cub?” he whispers. Sansa bites her lip.

“You can tell me.” he whispers, warm against her.

“Will Lady be upset?”  
Ser Jaime’s mouth is suddenly dry with nerves, his blood gone cold.  
“Why should she be?” he forms each word slowly.  
“Because you’re her mate and she’s yours.” Sansa whispers, trying not to cry.

“Gods-damn, gods-damn that filthy Littlefinger.” Ser Jaime’s mind is all fury. He wants to rip out Littlefinger’s heart and tongue, stud them with knives and give them to his sisters on a platter, he wants to see Cersei and Sansa nail the pieces to the walls till they are dry as paper in the wind, blow away to nothing.

“This isn’t how I wanted you to know. This isn’t how your Lady wanted you to know. We wanted...” Ser Jaime shudders,angry, then holds back, now a little afraid to move towards her, touch her-he doesn’t completely know what she could do, say, how she might look at him or Cersei now.

He won’t-can’t think of anything beyond that yet, anything he might have to do. Not yet, not now in this half-breath of a moment.

Sansa whispers. “I knew. Already.”  
She takes a deep breath.  
“My lions are beautiful. Beautiful together.” she says out loud, stubbornly, firmly looking straight at him staring into his emerald eyes.

Ser Jaime starts to relax, cautiously, the ice in his veins warming and melting as Sansa draws closer, stroking his cheek. Cold fear seeps out of him at each warm touch, like she is sunlight itself. “She knows us . She loves us.” he thinks, “we are beautiful to her.” and with a shudder of pleasure, he pulls her close to him again, his body to hers, his lips against her ear.  
“Oh lost little sister” he thinks “you’re home.” He brushes his lips against her, kissing away the last of his fear, pushing fire and sweetness through his blood. He holds Sansa tighter, feeling her nestle into him, thinks of both his sisters beside him one of body and one of blood kissed and woken from the cold, golden sister, red sister always, their pride brighter than any sun.

“Our cub is beautiful.” Ser Jaime whispers, kissing along her cheekbone, “our Red Sister is beautiful. You are ours.” he says out loud, stronger. “ as we are yours.”

Sansa smiles joyously. “I am yours as you are mine.Yours.” “Yes.” Ser Jaime whispers finally able to embrace her tightly. Nothing left but to kiss and they do, ruby against gold.

***  
He’s the one who carries her to the tub, undresses her,climbs in to wash her, every soft curve to every fingernail, wiping away the afternoon. In the water, he unfolds her hair like a scarlet fan, lathers it till the air is heavy with sage and honey, covers her eyes while he rinses her pure and clean, combs by candlelight till her hair is smooth as silk, wraps her in his cloak, where she kisses at the edge of snowy white. In the candlelight, he cradles her in his arms, breathing in the air from her lips.

***

Sansa’s closing her eyes, breathing sweet and deep against his chest murmuring her love in names and kisses at his skin _mybrothermyserloveyou_ as she drowses, eyes closing. Ser Jaime sighs with contentment. “Sweet red sister.” he whispers. “I love you too.” It’s then that the lion and cub curl round each other and sleep, safe in the darkness.


	44. Interlude: To Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter.
> 
> New words.
> 
> Waiting for a fair wind.

In Dorne, the Queen has a letter pinned inside her dress, over her heart. She is glad for the wind that brought the raven so quickly.

In Ser Jaime’s rough-edged writing, a single sentence:

_Red Sister Is Home._

Inside, Cersei feels her heart clatter around her ribcage, a strange heady mix of pleasure and fear. She loves getting what she wants, some say it’s greed or gluttony, for her it’s different, it’s the hit to the neck that brings down a beast, enough to feed her pride and not go hungry, that kind of pleasure twined with so many others.  
On others it might be called reward, well deserved, pride.

"I am greedy" she thinks and "I want meat, not bones nor guts. "I am a huntress." 

Cersei is impatient; she wants her soap, her slippers, she is tired of new food even though she likes some of it, tired of strange beds though every one’s been strange since she left the Rock (the only real one she thinks she ever had was hers and Jaime’s as children, her heart’s never healed from wanting it) tired of waiting for Jaime’s lips and fingers, tired waiting for the words from her little dove, her red sister, though her fingers have traced them on the letter, written below Jaime's delicate script not perfect but beautiful, one tiny heart. Cersei wants to keep it forever which is a rare thing-but keeping things means they are found.For now, she’ll run her finger over the letter each morning she has it before it must be burnt. The Queen does not have such turmoils. She adjusts her bodice, smooths her face, quiets her heart until all is cool and smooth as marble. She adjusts a tendril of hair, prepares to smile, dabs a bit of lavender on each wrist. (It smells like kitchen gardens-the Red Keep’s and best, that which grows wild near the Rock.) With a deep breath she opens the door and sails into the hall, hoping that the same winds bring her home soon. 


	45. Picnic (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day out.
> 
> Ser Jaime has a picnic.
> 
> The finer points of chivalry.

Ser Jaime Lannister admires his Sansa curled on her cushion, her chain sparkling in the sunlight, her hair a red flame, her body smooth and pale as pearl.  
She is patient and quiet, but time out will do her good.  
He already knows how much his little cub likes picnics.  
“Get up, little love. We’re going out--and you must be dressed before we go.” He looks her up and down, grinning, “I prefer you as you are now-the world is not as wise as I. How sad for them. “

Sansa’s arms are suddenly full of dress--slate, sage green trim, high neck-one from Winterfell. Her face falls, looking sad. Ser Jaime chuckles to see her sad expression. “Don’t pout, little cub. Pouty cubs get chained up”--he grins--”and have to watch Ser tend to himself.” He leans closer, green eyes sparkling, whispering “and they don’t get one single taste.” Sansa squeals and dresses.  
He finds picnics with his cub to be one of life’s finest pleasures.

***

They’ve ridden far out from the Keep. It’s green, beautiful and warm. Ser Jaime feels like he can swing his arms and breathe without hitting something or someone. He watches Sansa pick flowers, twining them into her braids. She runs over, smiling, curls up next to him, feels him hook his fingers under her chain to pull her closer his lips almost brushing hers. “I have a treat for you, little cub.” he whispers, breath warm on her skin. “Would you like to see?”

Ser Jaime holds her elbow as she walks with closed eyes, holding her still when she needs to stay. When she stops, it’s perfect; her red braids and pales skin are exquisite against the rough bark. He has to pause and compose himself; his clever cub knows his feelings regarding her braids.He reminds himself to punish her later. “Hold still, little girl.” he purrs. “Eyes closed.” Sansa’s face is blissful as she feels the first coil of rope wrap around her waist.

Standing back, Ser Jaime grins sharply, thinking he might have worshipped trees had any of them ever looked this lovely; his work is a vast improvement over a carved face. Ser Jaime also thinks blasphemy is also one of life’s finest pleasures.

Sansa is splayed against the rough bark, tied down with the prickliest, heaviest hemp rope that he could borrow from the stables; her hands are tied down, legs softly parted, the rope wrapped to thrust her pretty breasts forward. Her eyes still closed, long lashes brushing her cheeks, her braids tangled with flowers. Ser Jaime couldn’t be more pleased.

He watches her chest softly rise and fall, then strides over, taking his dagger, running the hilt against her cheek, straight to her lips. “Kiss.” Her eyes still closed, Sansa kisses the hilt, adding a soft flicker of pink tongue. Ser Jaime puts away the dagger, puts his black gloved hand to her throat, letting her feel the pressure. Sansa feels herself melting and floating, the rough rope against her skin, the scent of her Ser mixed with the leather of his glove and she sighs deeply.”Good girl.” he purrs. “Good girl.”

“Open your eyes.”

Sansa opens her eyes to find herself tied to the tree, Ser Jaime smiling wickedly as she tests the ropes, tiny wrist and ankle motions, but she’s held tight. Ser Jamie’s hand is still on her throat, his golden hair dappled with sunlight. He smiles his sharpest smile, pressing on her throat just a bit harder as Sansa’s heart beats faster.

“Look what we have.” He growls, openly, examining her. “A lady in peril--and such a sweet one too.He’s stroking Sansa’s face, sliding the tip of his gloved finger into her mouth, looking into her eyes. “Every last one of them is dead, my lady-before anything could happen to you.” Ser Jaime presses himself against her, Sansa rising up to meet him as he turns to whisper in her ear. “My sword’s still bloody from them, sweet lady.” She feels a sudden rush of wetness, feels him hard against her. “Thank you, Ser.” she smiles up at him, eyes wide and blue. “Thank you for saving me.” pressing her lips softly to his cheek.

“Such a little lady.” Ser Jamie smiles, stroking her hair. “Such a pretty kiss for her knight.” He grins sharply. “Such a pretty maiden.” Sansa shivers with pleasure, as his hands run over her body, toying with her breasts. “You are so brave, Ser.” she whispers in his ear. “My lord father will reward you, I promise.”

Ser Jaime steps back for a moment, gazing at her hungrily, then rips at the collar on her dress, splitting it almost to her navel. Sansa yelps, tingling at the cool air on her skin. “I fought for you, little girl.” he whispers. “I want to see how pretty my lady is.”He reaches to the bottom of her dress and rips up, revealing her pale thigh. Sansa gasps. “Ser.” He puts a finger to her lips. “Let me look at my prize.” Sansa rolls her hips, feeling the rope pull taut. “I wouldn’t struggle, my lady.” growls Ser Jaime. “They didn’t want to let you go--the rope will just get tighter.” He stares at her with glitteringly sharp emerald eyes. “I’ll have to improvise.” He unsheathes his dagger, slices the bit of cloth holding the dress together, leaving Sansa bare in the ruins of her dress. 

Ser Jaime runs his gloved hand over her shoulder, then down to her breast, feeling her pink nipple harden. “What a treasure.” he whispers. “You’re a prize for your lord father, pretty maiden, aren’t you?” His hand moves down to her belly, leaving trails of heat over her skin. “Please, Ser.” she whispers. “He’ll give you anything you want.”

Ser Jaime looks at her. “I could always use good steel--something nice to sink into flesh.” he growls staring into her wide blue eyes, running a finger over her neck, feeling Sansa shiver under his touch. “Or horses. Or mail.” He looks at her.  
“I bled for you, pretty girl.I want a kiss.” Sansa looks puzzled, eyes wide. He leans forward “Not one of those pretty little ones either. I want a taste of what your lord father has promised to some other lord’s son-a son with pasty skin who kisses like a cold fish.” He growls. 

“I want a real kiss, little princess.” His eyes pierce her. “Or I could just leave you here--stripped to the skin, tied up. People. Would. Stare.” Sansa’s breathing faster, harder, her thighs slick.

He comes close, pushes her head back and his lips touch hers, hard, urgent, his tongue sliding into her mouth. She can’t wrap her arms around him, but she kisses back with tongue and hungry lips, tasting him. He pulls back, lewdly rubbing against her, Sansa wanting to rub her hips back, but she can’t, only breathe faster at the feel of him on her skin.

“My lady likes it.” He grins, pinching hard at her nipples as Sansa moans. “I want something. My reward.” he whispers into Sansa’s ear, suddenly sliding a gloved finger into her cunt, tasting. He looks into her, his eyes flint. “Suck.” Sansa opens her mouth swirling her tongue around his finger, tasting leather and musk and her own juices. She growls low in her throat. “ Dirty little girl.” he whispers. “You like it, don’t you?” He stares into her eyes, teeth bared, feeling her chest rise and fall with each breath. 

“I’ve protected you.” he growls. “There’s nothing that says what happens after that. “ Ser takes off his gloves to scratch hard, leaving red scratches across her skin as she whimpers, her cunt growing slicker, hungrier. “I’ve killed men for you, little girl.” he whispers. “I rescued you.” He presses against her, rubbing hard, scraping her back against the tree. “This means you belong to me. You’re not your father’s any more.” Ser Jaime growls, nipping at her ear, biting at her throat. “You’re mine.”. He pushes her down as she’s trying to roll her hips. “Be still.” then whispers “Or I’ll make you wish you had been.” He rubs hard against her his breath hot in her ear.

“Does my lady know what a knight wants after he’s fought for her, bled for her?” Sansa groans “No, Ser, no.” “Not kisses, little girl.” He leans closer pushing at her,so she can feel how hard he is. “Hot, wet cunt. Something to sheathe myself in, to fuck. Make me feel alive.” Ser Jaime rubs harder. “Already know yours is hot and wet--not a little lady at all are you?” He grabs at her throat. “Little ladies don’t lick up their own juices, drip when a man wants to fuck them, do they?” “No.” Sansa whispers breathing heavily. “Little sluts do, don’t they?” Ser Jaime snarls biting her on the shoulder, hard,feeling her tremble. “Yes, Ser” whispers Sansa.

“Good.”  
Ser Jaime rubs between her legs,his hand slippery. He wipes it across her face, feeling her tongue drag against his palm. 

“That’ll get my whore nice and wet.” he growls 

“I’m going to fuck you.” He snarls. “Take your maidenhead, fuck you up to the hilt, slick myself with your maiden’s blood. That’s mine now..” He pushes her legs apart, cutting the rope binding them. Sansa growls, panting, baring her teeth.  
Ser Jaime grabs onto her hips, his cock sliding inside her rough and deep. “Legs around me, little whore.” he snarls, pushing up so hard into her that Sansa cries out. “So good.” he growls, “Such a tight little cunt. Such a good girl-all ruined. Mine. Maybe I’ll get my bastard on you right now.” Sansa cries out from deep inside as he feels her tighten around him. Ser Jaime grins, his teeth white and sharp. “My slut likes that. Good.”

He’s fucking harder, slamming her against the tree, her legs clamped around him, sweat dampening his golden hair, Sansa gripping at him, scratched from the bark, catching the faint scent of blood from her own skin. She growls fucking back as hard as she can, grabbing onto him. “Never back to Daddy.” he snarls. “You belong to me now. “You’re mine.” Sansa howls, flooding him, shaking hard, feeling her cunt quiver around him, gasping for breath. Ser Jaime snarls with pleasure. “Good girl. You’re making your Ser happy.”

Sansa’s gripping him tight with her legs, growling low in her throat, looking into his wild green eyes as he fucks her, so hard the rope is scraping and burning at her skin, making her slippery again. He snarls “ Three good hard ones to bruise you-want you nice and tender when I fuck you again.”, pushing himself into her so deep she squeals, the second so hard she groans. On the third hard thrust he roars “Mine.” biting into her chest so hard her left breast bears two bright red half moons. Sansa trembles with the rush, her cunt sore and sweet, clenches around him and screams in joy. Ser Jaime collapses on her as she feels his seed pour in-and with a growl and a rock of her hips her body shakes again. She roars too, loud and free, not caring if anyone hears.  
They both gasp for air-Ser Jaime briefly envies Sansa, since she won’t fall. He nuzzles her breast, licking softly, Sansa licking at what she can reach of him. When he cuts the ropes, they both curl at the foot of the tree for a moment, Sansa licking the sweat from her lion’s face, cleaning him, rubbing her head against his. He growls low in his throat, licking her neck, cleaning a smudge of dirt from her cheek, both of them purring softly in each other’s arms, not needing words.

Ser Jaime finds words first.

“And what do you think of my ending to Florian and Jonquil?” 

He grins cockily, she laughs, like music.  
“It’s the best one.” she says , eyes sparkling wickedly. “They should have it in every song.” 

She rubs her head against her Ser’s chest as he laughs, listening to his heartbeat, breathing in his scent of spice and honey while he wraps his arms around her, both warm, pleased.

***  
He wraps her in a robe, gives her tea and they eat; tiny quail stuffed with blackberries and hazelnuts, dates soaked in wine and honey, slices of beef and apples, Sansa eats from her Ser’s hands, her tongue licking his fingers clean each time, him picking tiny bones from the quail so she can eat safely, He cuts her slices of apple and to make her laugh, puts one in his mouth for her to bite. She grabs at it, sliding in her tongue. “Wicked little sister.” he says, smiling. “Sometimes you have no manners. I’ll have to punish you for it.” Sansa snuggles close to him, drinking from his cup-and he thinks her purple stained lips will always be one of the loveliest sights he’s seen.”Good little cub.” he purrs. “My brave little lioness.” Sansa purrs as he strokes her hair, her curves, feels the sunlight on her and for the first time in ages, Ser Jaime Lannister is content 

Would my little cub like another treat?” he growls into her ear, nipping at the lobe. Sansa purrs, nodding yes. He pulls a leather box from his bag, putting it into her hands “Open it.” he whispers. Sansa does. It’s a bracelet; heavy gold chain, a lion’s head clasp with one bright ruby eye. Sansa can trace all the curls in the mane with her fingertip, holding it, amazed. She looks up to see Ser Jaime smiling at her. “Thank you Ser,” she murmurs throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. She nearly knocks him over but he doesn’t mind right now. He holds her tightly, curls her into his lap. Ser Jaime presses the catch on the bracelet and his mouth is suddenly dry. “It locks.” he whispers, looking at her upturned face, her smile, her deep blue eyes. He whispers “Do you want me to lock it?” 

Sansa looks into his emerald eyes, strokes his face, runs her fingers through his spun gold hair. “Yes.” Ser Jaime grins, lifts her right wrist and with a twist and a catch the bracelet locks, Sansa looks at it sparkling in the afternoon light, then can’t do anything but nuzzle into her Ser’s chest. He purrs, caresses her slowly as he speaks. “You have something from your Lady. I wanted you to have something from just me-your Ser.” He looks at her, his eyes gleaming jade in the afternoon light. They rub their heads together, gold and red, perfect and beautiful, words replaced by tiny snarls, bites and growls, with kisses, then purrs. Sansa feels warm and sweet, like inside she’s turned to honey, gleaming and golden, like she has melted into her lover. The only thing to do is purr.

***

 

He lets her sleep in his lap until it’s time to go and she rides in front of him, in a plain dress, covered by his cloak. Ser Jaime realizes despite any other plan, Sansa always seems to ride in front of him, wrapped up in his arms . It’s something he can live with.

***  
Ser Jaime gets Sansa upstairs, puts her in a chemise, brushes her hair, cleans and kisses each little wound, each burn from the rope and carries her to bed, Sansa briefly dazzled by the bracelet locked on her wrist. “You’re one of us little girl, one of us always.” he thinks, then wraps himself around her, thinking of Cersei on her other side, wanting their pride. Their pride. Together. And he’ll kill anything that tries to separate them. Sansa hums as she drowses, kisses his arm as he rubs his head against her, almost asleep himself, then he drifts away, the golden lion wrapped up in his cub’s arms. He hardly remembers sleepless nights. Since his little cub arrived, he sleeps soundly. And he has started to dream.


	46. Prolepsis/When All's Well: The Wait  (LadyxCub, SerxCub, LadyxSerxCub,LadyxSer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vision of what's to come.
> 
> Not a storm but a breeze.
> 
> Pride.

Sansa is sitting at her Ser’s feet trying to embroider, but her skeins are turning to snarls, turning her handkerchief into a mess. Sansa makes a noise but Ser Jaime is too quick for her, reaching down to wrap her garnet hair around his hand twice, pulling her up just enough that she’s kneeling and he can look at her.

“Now, red sister.” he purrs. “Don’t be petulant.” He strokes her hair and behind her ears to gentle her, Sansa rubbing her head against his black gloved hand. “Good little girl.” he whispers. “My sweet cub.”, rubbing her shoulder. He smiles at her brightly. “No need to be afraid.You’re already ours.” Ser Jaime already knows Sansa has barely eaten for the past day and a half, she’s so nervous. She’s even turned down lemon cakes, noting that she doesn’t want to get sick when Lady gets here. Their Lady.

Sansa can’t decide if she feels fluttery and excited like a bride or as ill as a child stuffed on green fruit although there’s always a chance that brides feel like that. The salt air from the window cools her, helps her breathe easier. She rests her head on her Ser’s knee and he strokes her from hair to back, caressing and calming his little girl. He’d carried her into the Rock a few days and and brazenly kissed her tongue entwining with hers, whispering “Welcome home, little love.” after not caring if anyone saw. Now here they are, waiting. 

****  
“I’d be worried if you weren’t a bit nervous.” Ser Jaime whispered to her in the dark, the night before, his busy hands running over her breasts, down to her belly, stroking the softness of her red curls, her pearl already hardening. “Shhhh.” he whispered. “Shhh, little love.” She’s rocking her hips against his fingers. “I love you.” he purrs. “We love you. We’re going to chain you up...” his fingers thrusting within her “...fuck you till you scream...” Sansa gasping for breath “...keep you forever.” Sansa bucks and cries out as Ser Jaime holds her, her fluids soaking his fingers. Ser Jaime presses his palm to her lips. “Lick.” he whispers. Sansa uses her tongue to clean his hand, tonguing away every bit. They rub their gold and ruby heads together, growling, purring and it’s then that Sansa can finally sleep.

****  
Sansa hears steps, starts up hearing a familiar tread, though she’s sitting down, she feels like she’s falling. The Queen’s there, looking at them, green eyes solemn and firm, hair gleaming and golden having come in as quietly as a leaf on the breeze. The Queen snaps her fingers and Sansa gets up, takes the case she’s handed, Ser Jaime takes the Queen’s arm and all of them walk slowly to her apartments. Sansa unboxes sewing notions and lavender oil, fluffs pillows, calls for more blankets, Ser Jaime discusses strategies and situations while servants flutter in and out of the room. Sansa feels like her heart is in her throat as she folds handkerchiefs, sharp-edged crisp squares in a fan on the clothespress, tucked away in leather cases, every last one perfect. She doesn’t even hear the key turn in the lock, she’s folding and has now reached gloves.

Cersei’s already clasping Ser Jaime’s hand, both of them sitting on the bench at he base of the bed, watching her tidy; Sansa’s courtesies could deflect any number of bastard swords, hammers or clubs and yet her fingers stay busy. The Lioness of the Rock and Ser Jaime tilt their heads together and look at her, watching to see what she’ll do. When it comes to the second box of gloves, Cersei relents.

“Little dove.” she murmurs, soft yet firm, a hint of a smile around her firm lips. “Little dove.” Sansa turns around, her sapphire eyes huge. Cersei finally smiles, her emerald eyes lit with a tiny light. “Put down the gloves.” Sansa places them on the clothespress, worried that they are out of place.  
“Come to me, sweet girl.” whispers Cersei, her golden hair shining in the light of the bright tapers. “As I like best.” Sansa drops to her hands and knees, crawling slowly towards her Lady, finally able to kiss the hem of her skirt, her lips running over the raised red of the brocade. She realizes that she’s looking at shiny black boots and brocade next to each other. Both her lions are here and it’s all right, it feels right. Sansa nuzzles her face into her Lady’s hem. “Good girl.” Cersei whispers, caressing the back of Sansa’s neck. leaning down to whisper. “My sweet little sister.” Sansa quivers, her Lady’s fingertips turning to nails at the soft place where her hair meets skin. Cersei digs in and Sansa breathes through the pain, the tiny red half moons at the roots of her hair. “Very good girl.” Cersei purrs back. 

Cersei reaches and takes Ser Jaime’s hand, her slim, firm fingers on top of his strong hands, both of them breathing together as he strokes Sansa’s back, her hand guiding him. Cersei growls softly, moving her hand lower along Sansa’s curves while Ser Jaime wraps his hand with Sansa’s red hair, pulling her neck up in a graceful arch, growling, teasingly snapping his teeth at Cersei’s sleeve. They both listen-Cersei putting her fingertips on Sansa’s throat, feeling it vibrate--and their cub is purring. The golden twins take turns petting their cub, their red sister, none of them needing words. There will be more later; they’ll strip her and bite her, see how she bites back and uses her tiny claws, lie together with her between them, see how cleverly she uses her tongue and take her for her first plunge into the sea.

For right now, there is no need for anything else; only hands, growls, purring, the easy grace of the Lioness of Lannister and the Lion of Lannister rubbing their golden heads together, breathing in the same air, their hands on the girl they love, their little red cub.  
They can’t speak it yet, but it feels like home.


	47. Gift  (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei and Sansa exchange gifts.  
> Midnight.  
> Beating hearts.

“I know a little girl.” Ser Jaime Lannister nips at a white shoulder, “who isn’t going to get her present if she doesn’t stop squirming.”

Sansa bites her lip. “Think that’s a good idea, little cub? I’m not the one in charge of this one.” He grins. “Though maybe I should have been. Would be difficult enough that you’d be still.” Sansa’s blue eyes grow wide, then she nips back, growling. They wrestle on the red and gold bed, snarling and biting at each other. The square mirror across the room shows Ser Jaime subduing Sansa with a scruff to the neck, stroking her auburn hair, kissing her on the temples, ears, lightly on the lips. Sansa’s skin as milk white as stars on a clear night, as white as the scars that cross Ser Jaime’s chest.  
(One day Cersei and Sansa will kiss and name them all, Ser Jaime’s body a map of their own heavens.)

Cersei stands apart from her lovers, at her dressing table, slipping off her rings--the lion’s head, the carnelian, the tiny gold ring of Sansa’s that fits on her pinkie. She files her nails down again, putting the shell on the table rinsing her hands. For once the Lioness Queen is nervous but she won’t let it show. Instead, she looks in the mirror, adjusts her robe of golden gauze, pinches her cheeks for color as if there were not two lovers in her bed already, files and washes again, wipes her hands on the cream towel resting on the edge of the table. Cersei takes a bowl, rich with oil from Dorne, golden, its scent like fruit and sunlight and starts stroking it over her hands. 

She’s done this before. It’s amazing what will make people fear, make them behave, stun them into silence. Sometimes she’s offered it to a bedwarmer to make her scream. It gave the queen the pleasure of having her run away.  
It was a good threat.

Cersei wants a sip of wine, but silently keeps rubbing the oil over, into her hands until they gleam, slick and golden. 

She feels eyes on her, knows they are blue, sapphire curious ones. Cersei gives a half smile, feeling a little better, putting on her calmest, strongest face. 

Sansa’s eyes are half closed already from the pleasure of Ser Jaime kissing her, sliding his fingers slowly in and out of her rosy cunt already slick and beautiful. Sansa slides up, puts up her knees so he can reach better and he growls. nuzzling the back of her neck. Cersei looks at her girl’s face; flushed, beautiful, pale and lovely as marble, Sansa’s forehead a cool stone that she loves to kiss.

“Hello, little dove.” Cersei whispers, brushing her lips across Sansa’s forehead, her hair following, light scent of lavender. Sansa’s eyes open, deep and trusting.

“Hello, my Lady.” she sighs, looking up and smiling into Cersei’s green eyes, the wildfire warming, a slow burn today. Cersei smiles to see her girl spread out before her; cloud of fiery hair, full breasts with rosy nipples, the pale curve of her belly and coltish legs with such beautiful pinkness in between. Cersei sighs with pleasure.

“Somebody’s been a very, very good girl.” whispers Cersei. “My little dove’s been practicing just like I knew she could.” Sansa is lying still, her head resting on Ser Jaime’s chest, her sapphire eyes sparkling with excitement, nerves. Cersei takes one oiled hand, runs it the center of Sansa’s chest to her belly, then to brush over her cunt. Sansa moans softly. “You are a good girl.” purrs Cersei, nuzzling her head against Sansa’s, giving a quick kiss to Ser Jaime’s arm. “Such a good girl. I know you can do this.” She presses her slippery right hand over Sansa’s cunt. Sansa has a sudden intake of breath, then a wide smile.

“Yes. Clever little dove.” Cersei favors Sansa with a smile back. Without being asked, Jaime arranges pillows to let Sansa rest against them and the carved headboard, adjust towels, checks the bedside table, then returns to Sansa’s side, stroking her hair, nuzzling her. Cersei leans over and Sansa reaches up to kiss her, a long, sweet slow kiss, Cersei’s tongue sliding eagerly and softly into Sansa’s mouth. Sansa melts and falls back, her legs opening gently to show soft copper curls, ruddy lips.  
“My girl.” whispers Cersei. “My sweetest, sweetest girl.” Sansa purrs, eyes already wide, her body relaxed. “Good little dove. You can do this for your Lady.” Cersei smiles, cupping Sansa’s cunt in her hand, rubbing slowly with her oiled fingers, feeling her clit stiffen, her cunt open. “Pretty.” whispers Cersei.

It is pretty-like a rose unfurling, red blood-filled petals opening in pleasure, already wet with dew. Cersei admires as she slides a finger in and out, feeling Sansa sigh. “Good girl-already nice and wet.” She’s rewarded with soft, sweet mewling noises as Sansa writhes, whispering “more, my Lady, more please!”

Cersei and Jaime both laugh at the same moment, low and warm. “Oh? Somebody’s a greedy little dove today isn’t she?” Cersei smiles, leaning to nip at Sansa’s belly. “Ladies need to be patient, don’t they?”

Sansa’s eyes lock with Cersei’s; she bites her lip chastened. “Yes, my Lady.” she whispers.  
“Good”. Cersei slides in two fingers, slowly sliding in and out, hearing Sansa gasp in delight, feeling her softness, her wetness, how slick and lovely her girl already is. She relaxes into the rhythm herself, breathing into each slow thrust, moving back and forth, her golden hair brushing Sansa’s thighs. She hears Sansa’s breath quicken, knows without looking up that Jaime is toying with the tiny sensitive spot on the back of Sansa’s neck, sweetening it. Sansa’s breath is soon coming deep and slow, as Cersei spreads her fingers just a bit wider, crooking them to stroke the inside of her walls, feeling for the tiny roughness--there. Cersei’s fingers circle and circle, her thumb on Sansa’s clit till she’s whimpering, moaning, flushed pink all over though Cersei’s focused on her rosy cunt, feeling her squeeze tightly, release, moan.

“Beg.” whispers Cersei firmly. “Beg.”

Sansa moans out in a soft voice, choked from holding back “Please, please let me. Please, I’ll be so good for you, I’m so wet, please, please.” Sansa’s eyes are closed, her breath coming quicker, gasping in delight.

Cersei twists, hearing Sansa groan. “Pleasant. Nice enough.” Cersei slides her fingers all the way out, making circles at her entrance, making Sansa moan harder, pant. “Please, please, please I beg you let me, please I’m all yours, your girl, please, please let me come, please. “, the last words in a sweet whimper that brings a smile to Cersei’s pretty lips. 

“Please who?”

There’s a brief silence as Sansa breathes. Cersei leans forward, face and body inches from Sansa’s, dropping to press against her. “My little dove comes so very hard when she says it to me. It makes her all wet, doesn’t it? Hmmmm?” Cersei purrs. “And it makes very happy-my little girl likes making me happy, doesn’t she? Say it.” Cersei whispers and slides her fingers back in firmly, pushing against the rough spot. “Make me proud.”, feeling Sansa’s hips rock, her legs slip further open, her fingers playing on and off, on and off the rough spot. 

Sansa groans as if in pain, deep inside her. “Please let me. Please. Please.” Sansa’s eyes open, fixing onto Cersei’s bright green ones, releasing, submitting. “Please. Your Grace.” she whispers. Cersei feels Sansa trembling on the inside, holding back, just a moment longer. 

“Yes, you may. Good girl.” 

Sansa growls, flooding Cersei’s hand over and over as she fucks, easily slipping in a third finger. “Good. Good girl.” whispers Cersei, working her hand, sliding her fingers in and out. “Such a good little dove for me.” Cersei looks up, catching Jaime’s eye. Slowly, with a wicked smile, he pours the oil over Sansa’s cunt and Cersei’s fingers, the rich golden scent of olives filling the air. Cersei nods her thanks as her twin rubs his golden head against her lover’s, encouraging, nuzzling. Sansa moans again at the feel of the oil hitting her clit, flowing over her. “Very nice.” whispers Cersei, looking into Sansa’s eyes, wide and trusting, feeling a tightness in her chest. Sliding her fingers in and out slower, Cersei breathes deep and slow herself, being strong, it’s just pain it’s all right, she’s just holding her breath. Cersei feels calm cracking through the pain, slipping out like a sweet balm.Better.  
She keeps breathing, then returns to her girl, easily slipping in three fingers, then--marvel--a fourth. Cersei shifts her hand, forming it like a swan’s head. “My good girl.” Cersei smiles widely. “My little dove is doing so well today--her Lady’s so proud.” Sansa sighs sweetly, Cersei feeling her cunt open further. “Hungry little girl.” Cersei grins, feeling Sansa melt, knowing she’s breathing sweetly, opening up. Cersei look up and into the deep blue pools of her eyes and feels Jaime pour more oil, to where they are joined, fingers to cunt. Cersei’s own eyes are wide, feeling Sansa open under her, a strange wild joy that she tempers, not wanting to rush.

_Oh, little dove. Oh, my sister, my darling._

“Breathe. Bear down a little, sweet girl. So good.” Cersei gasps out raggedly, and her thumb’s in too. Sansa looks up and her smile is so wide and sweet that Cersei needs to breathe again, through the little bit of hurt, getting better with each. “Yes.” whispers Sansa, looking into Cersei’s emerald eyes, “yes. yes Your Grace.” 

Cersei shivers with pleasure, smiles, looking at her girl, her red hair spread on Jaime’s chest like flame. “Breathe, sweetling. You’re doing so well.” Cersei tries not to let her voice shake as Sansa moans, flooding her hand again, flowing like a river around her, followed by another pour of oil. “Little love.” Cersei whispers, gazing into Sansa’s eyes. “So good, my good girl.My girl.” Sansa cries out and bears down, Cersei feels her knuckles slide in, her own heart beat faster. She presses forward lightly, eyes locked on Sansa’s feeling Sansa open, making low guttural, beautiful moans, beyond speech. 

“Little dove.” Cersei whispers in joy, smiling at Sansa, looking down at her cunt, Cersei’s own fingers and hand. “My little dove.” Sansa cries out, pushes forward, more fluid and then Cersei’s knuckles are past. “Oh, Sansa.” she cries softly. “My girl. My girl. “

Sansa makes sweet, wordless noises, looking into the jade waters of Cersei’s eyes. Cersei feels Jaime pour more oil onto her hand. “Yes.” Cersei whispers. “My good girl. My little dove. My hungry little girl who opens right up for me, greedy, sweet girl, yes...” Sansa cries out from deep inside, Cersei moves forward-and her hand is enveloped by warmth, wetness, pure loveliness. “Sansa.” whispers Cersei, looking up into her eyes, not even looking at her wrist disappearing into Sansa’s pretty cunt. “Sansa, my sweetling, my dove, such a good girl....”

Sansa’s eyes roll in pleasure, her eyes azure and luminous with joy. Cersei can breathe now, enjoy it. She can feel Sansa from the inside, the softness of her cunt, how sweetly and strongly it holds her, the slickness, the clench of the muscles on the wrist--”good girl”, the way the walls beat and warm and...

“Little dove.” whispers Cersei in wonder. “I can feel your heart beat.” Sansa cries out low and sweet, Jaime kissing her forehead--and it feels like that heartbeat is the one that joins them all, sends the blood racing and tumbling through their veins, keeping them alive, together. Cersei cries out too, feeling like her head and heart are opening bright and strong the only word in her mind yes

their voices ring out in that midnight, a song of joy.

“Sansa. Sansa. My good girl.” moans Cersei. “My love.” Jaime’s moved over to Cersei’s side, holding her up, running his lips hover her hair. “You did it.” she whispers. “You took me, little dove. You did. Good girl.” Her eyes shine bright, mirroring Sansa’s though Sansa already has tears running down her face. “We did your Grace.” she whispers then cries out low and deep, ringing like a bell in the candlelit room. Cersei shakes, glad Jaime is there to hold her, resting her head on his shoulder, her other hand on Sansa’s thigh, hearts pumping gold and red and perfect.

Sansa makes cranky noises when Cersei starts to slide out her hand gently, tiny bit at a time. “Empty.” she mumbles. Cersei pays attention to her hand, lets Jaime comfort her for a moment hearing him reassure that yes, she’ll do it again, Sansa still growling that she’ll be empty. Eventually when Cersei slides her hand free, there’s only a little grumble of disappointment, kissed better by Cersei’s lips on her belly. Cersei moves the wet and oily towels, dries her hand, comes up to snuggle by her dove.

Cersei can’t speak either, just collapses like a doll, Sansa nuzzling her softly. “Love you, my Lady.” she mumbles, eyes still wide, voice slowed by pleasure. “My heart got bigger.” Sansa murmurs, closing her eyes, leaning against her Lady’s shoulder as Ser Jaime turns Cersei over and massages her shoulders. Cersei sighs, giving herself up to her brother’s fingers, her hand never leaving Sansa’s thigh.

It’s Jaime who gives them both water to drink, feeds them dried apricots and almonds a bite at a time, moves them to the side so they’re dry. He strokes them gently before he slides under the covers as Sansa kisses Cersei, slowly, tenderly. “Thank you, your Grace My Lady sweetness.” she mumbles, curling up against her Lady’s breast.

“Always.” whispers Cersei, wrapping an arm around her. Jaime lies by Sansa, reaching over to touch Cersei’s arm. “Always.” whispers Cersei, her hair in a golden cloud, slowly falling asleep enveloped in sweetness, held close by love.


	48. Prelude: Lesson One (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Education.
> 
> How Sansa learns.
> 
> A surprise.

Ser Jaime climbs into the tub, his body clouded by the steam rising from the water. He sighs, relaxes as the heat soaks into his skin and his eyes flutter shut for a moment in pleasure.

Sansa always enjoys the elegant motion of his eyes and lashes combined with his strong body, his traceries of pale scars. Today he has fresh bruises and scrapes after melee with the new squires. Somehow, the marks accent his skin, the shape of his muscles, his ferocity. Sansa wonders for a moment if that is how she looks to her Ser, every bite and scrape and bruise an adornment, cocks her head to the side to look as she pours water on herself, wets her garnet hair and reaches for her Ser’s favorite soap.

“Sweet girl, I know you can’t get enough of looking at me.” Ser Jaime says, watching her through slitted eyelids, enjoying Sansa’s squeak of surprise. "Of course I can't blame you."His eyes sparkle, teasing her and she smile. "But I’m in desperate need of a bath and your attention. You wouldn’t want me to have to tend to myself, would you?”  
Sansa’s eyes widen and she scrambles in with only a small splash.

Ser Jaime grins, satisfied as his girl begins to rub against his back, her legs wrapped around him, the air heavy with the scent of sage and honey. He growls warm and low in his chest as she caresses, cleaning away all the dirt and soreness of the field. Lying against her, he feels her reach up, then breathes in the sunlight and fruit scent of the Dornish oil she uses on his back and shoulders, her fingers working in tiny circles, pressing hard enough to melt the knots in his muscle.  
Sansa smiles, breathing softly in delight as under her hands his shoulders and neck soften, ease and release the tension that’s been hurting him. She loves this time--quiet, peaceful, nothing but warmth,the indescribable pleasure of tending to her Ser, feeling him relax in her arms, respond to her touch, all skin on skin.

Her desire burns slow and long, fed by the the languorous pleasure of the hot water, her body pressing against his, his body warm against hers. When he closes his eyes, slips down to rest his head on her breasts, it’s a circuit of comfort and delight, a pleasure that shakes Sansa to the core every time.

It’s home and she’s his.

She closes her eyes breathing in the perfumed air, closer, his own scent of spices and honey, clean, familiar, still intoxicating, sweet. Sansa tilts her head to touch his and they lie together, warmed by the water, both serene and pleased. Sansa’s eyes close as she caresses her Ser’s arms, shifts a little to allow his head more comfort on her breast. Somewhere, she feels her lion purring against her and she rubs her red head against his golden one. She’s almost asleep when he speaks.

“Your Lady has written. It seems I’ve neglected a critical part of your education.”

Sansa comes awake, a small spray of water rising as she jerks her head up. Her Ser laughs low in his throat.

“Theres’s nothing to worry about, little cub.” He pauses for a moment, watching her calm, then grins again, his emerald eyes sparkling.  
“Oh, there is-my mistake.”

Even though she’s behind him, Ser can tell his cub’s eyes are huge as they always are when she has a concern or a worry. He growls softly, enjoying it. “Apparently, you haven’t been deflowered as completely as she would like. “ He pauses, taking both of her wrists between his hands, imprisoning her, pinning her around his neck. “And I agree--you certainly haven’t been deflowered as much as I would like.” he growls, leaning to her ear. “Nowhere near enough.”

Sansa’s mind whirls in confusion as she tries to think of anything that might have been neglected, trying to list everything they have done, getting stuck on a few especially memorable occasions.  
Ser Jaime is smiling now, enjoying having his little cub so puzzled, waiting to see what she’ll do. Sansa bites her lip, worried, as Ser Jaime pulls her forward to face him. Without words she knows to wrap her legs around him, keep her arms clasped round his neck as he caresses her back, up to her neck and the base of her skull, soothing her even as he teases.

“Really, little girl? Have I been that remiss in corrupting you?” Ser Jaime laughs, feeling it echo around the room, moving one hand to her lower back, stroking her like a pet, feeling her grow gentle under his touch. He growls “Hasn’t my sweetest little sister been curious and insistent when I mention those poor, lonely squires--young men with no lovely little cubs like you to make them happy, no nice slick cunts to sheathe themselves in? Too bad for them.” His smile grows wicked as Sansa starts to think, then he whispers in her ear “You should know that sometimes I have a twin brother--” he pauses at her huge eyes “...and both of us want to fuck our little darling at the same time.”

Sansa gasps, then groans, her cunt suddenly growing slick as she understands.. “Ah, that’s making you wet. You’ve got it,” he purrs, caressing the rounded curves of her rear, pausing to squeeze hard, then caress.. “Still such a clever girl.” He looks in her eyes, his emerald ones glinting with mischief. “My sweet sister wants to fuck you--when she’s my twin sister too. Ah, well. “ His smile is bright as fangs.  
“Too bad for you, little girl. You’ll be sore.”

Sansa groans low in her throat, grinding against her Ser, feeling him already hard, moaning at this new possibility, thinking only about being so open, so fuckable, being their toy and ready for a new, rough game. She nuzzles at her Ser’s throat, licking at him, squirming in his lap, her legs anchored around him so she clings to him in the water, wondering what it will feel like to have someone inside her like that. 

Ser Jaime bites at her ear. “I’ve never had a squire pretty enough to fuck--but if I dress you properly, I’ll have a nice red-haired one to bend over in the tack room and fuck mercilessly.” He laughs as Sansa’s breath comes hot in his ear. “I think you’ve figured it out. Such a clever girl.” He pauses. “Hmmm. And where could I fuck you like that, sweetling?”

Sansa’s face is red, her body blushing, her head dipped. “My ass, Ser.” she whispers.  
Ser Jaime grins, emerald eyes sparkling with wickedness. “I’m afraid you splashed a bit too much, little cub. You’re going to have to say it again.”  
He pauses. “Louder. Looking at me.”

He watches her struggle; it’s been a while since he’s seen her so nervous, with such a little tremble of fear watches the water tremble around her as she quivers.  
She shakes her red hair like she’s fluffing out her mane, looks straight into his eyes and says louder, stronger.  
“My ass. Ser.” then her blue eyes staring into his, dropping to a whisper “because it’s yours.”  
Ser Jaime grins. “Good girl.”, pulling Sansa close so she can feel how hard he is.  
“That.” he whispers. “is going to be inside you very soon. Think about that.” Ser Jaime feels her shake and grips her tight, squeezing her ass so hard that there will be bruises in the morning--and he feels her lean into his fingers, gasping. He grips harder, digging in his fingernails as she squeals. “You’ll squeal louder than that when my cock’s buried in your pretty ass.” He grips tight, purring with the pleasure of leaving marks. “Rather large for such a tiny place, isn’t it?”

“My...my..it’s...tight.” Sansa whispers, shaking with fear and excitement, gasping as Ser Jaime chuckles. “And you want it filled up, don’t you, my naughty girl?” he snarls, hearing her moan. “You’re always hungry for my cock anywhere you can get it--and you’ll get at least three places now, lucky girl. “ Sansa growls softly in pleasure, rocking her hips against him as she warms to the idea, considers it and growls again finding it lovely.

“Rub.” he orders, feeling her grind against him, her hips rocking as he reaches for the oil at the edge of the tub, slicking his fingers. Slowly, he reaches between her cheeks, stroking gently. “Keep rubbing.” he whispers in her ear. “Want you to enjoy thinking about this--though I know you’ve come from thinking of it before. Especially when I told you exactly what those squires did when they got lonely.” Sansa purrs, excited at the feel of her Ser’s fingers between her cheeks, pressing back against him. 

Ser Jaime’s delighted; he’s mentioned it and his little cub’s first thought is to grind at him and pant for it. With a sliding, soft motion, he rubs his oiled finger around the bud of her asshole, feeling her push back again. “Patience.” he whispers. “Don’t rush. Or you won’t get anything--and I won’t let you.” Sansa holds still, warm and relaxed in the tub as he circles his fingertip around her bud. “We need to be slow.” he whispers, circling slowly, feeling her relax into it, the delicious tremble of her body as she starts to feel the pleasure of it. “Good girl.” he whispers. “My good girl.”

Under his fingers, Sansa feels her bud tingle--a warm, lush feeling as it’s circled again and again, caressed and stroked. She moans softly, wanting to push but knowing she can’t yet. “Slaves get taken like this too.” her Ser whispers into her ear, hearing her moan sweetly. “My little slave.” he purrs, rewarded by a sigh and the soft flutter of muscles, her tight bud starting to open for him and oh, how he likes feeling it open softly under his fingers.. “It is tight-but we’ll practice. Soon you’ll be able to take my cock perfectly--and anything else I might want to put there.”

She gasps with joy, feeling her asshole flicker again, the pulses of pleasure from the touch so new; Sansa makes a soft mewling noise, already wanting something even if it hurts. “My.” Ser Jaime whispers. “My pretty little cub already wants her ass fucked, doesn’t she? Sansa buries her face into her Ser’s chest, embarrassed and excited. “Good.” He reaches up, oiling his fingers again, flickering them against her asshole. “Press back.” he whispers. “Slowly.”

Sansa pushes herself back, slowly, feeling his finger slip inside her, feeling her insides grip at him tightly, wonderfully. She sighs softly, growling softly in her throat, feeling it as something rich and sweet, something she didn’t know she wanted and now. “More, Ser.” she whispers, looking up. “More, please, Ser.”

“Greedy.” he snarls back, eyes flashing jade, then grins. “Though you’ve such a greedy cunt, I’m not surprised you have a greedy little ass as well. One little taste and then you want more....” He is indulgent, pressing the tip of a second finger to her tight little hole. “Push back.” and she does, Ser shivering at the sweetness of being held tight in her, her warmth around him as she slowly takes another half an inch, then another. It’s then that he starts to fuck, hearing her moan and splash as he penetrates her, fucking harder as she wriggles, pinned on him.  
(His cock is throbbing so hard, he already plans to be down her throat as soon as they return to his bed--the thought of spurting into her so deeply is so delectable that he snarls, fucks harder.)  
“You’re going to come for me, sweetling.” he whispers, in her ear, feeling her thrash and yowl, impaling herself on his fingers. Sansa gasps “Yes-” then hears him growl. “Just from this. No rubbing, no fingers on your pearl, nothing in your pretty cunt--just from me fucking your tight, sweet ass. You’d best work hard at it, hadn’t you?” He growls “My little slut.”

Sansa sighs, panting, learning; having to push her muscles outward to take him in, rewarded by more depth, more of that luscious tingling. “Good girl.” Ser whispers, “Such a good girl.” Sansa rocks her hips, the water swirling around her, feeling a pressure build inside her, sparking of nerves around where her Ser’s fingers are in her, then a feeling of being filled in a way she never had before. Her splashing has small waves breaking around her hips, pouring against her pearl and Ser’s pushing just a bit deeper and everything’s building and oh....

Ser Jaime has to think quickly, move his other arm to his cub’s mouth so she’ll only bite and scream into his flesh, thrashing and tossing herself in the water enough that he’s briefly concerned he might break a finger. Her bite’s so hard he’s going to have to be sure to cover it.

_(oh little sister, you will pay for this mark.)_

As Sansa shudders, he snarls in pleasure. “Well, my little cub. You liked that--and since you bit me, I’m going to have to punish you before I fuck your mouth. “ He arches a golden brow. “What am I to do with you, naughty sister?”

Sansa looks up, her hair soaked, her face flushed with pleasure. “More of...that?” She looks up and grins. Ser Jaime grins back. “Yes, little girl. Yes, we will.Much more.” Sansa grumbles as she feels his fingers slip out of her, still slicked with oil. After he cleans his hands, he washes her hair, soaps her skin till she’s as clean and sweet-smelling as he is, wrapping her in a towel and drying her. Sansa blinks at him with half-sleepy eyes, though he knows the cool air and her own hunger will wake her again. 

“So.” Ser whispers, flicking his tongue against her ear. “I think there’s a box for my little girl to open when we get back to my room--since we will be continuing these lessons. “ He enjoys watching the smile spread across her face, the sparkling excitement in her eyes, then can’t resist.

“You know, cocks aren’t the only thing that can fit in there.” he purrs, drying her hair. “Once we get you nice and open for cock.”-he pauses-”your Lady and I do have lovely hands, don’t we?” Her wide eyes, gasp and smile are just what he needs. Scooping her into his arms, he carries her back to the bedroom. Sansa snuggles her head against his chest, still tingling inside--and extremely curious about what’s in her box. Her lions always have exquisite taste in gifts. The thought excites her and she’s nuzzling her Ser’s neck as the door closes behind them.


	49. Hair (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunlight in the afternoon.
> 
> A lesson in service.
> 
> The very finest cub.

It’s laundry day and Sansa moves quickly. She removes each shirt from the bundle, puts it in the clothespress, folded beautifully adds a bit of dried rosemary for scent. She’s working on hose, breeches, other things, her wrist-to-waist chains clinking, biting her lip, intent on the task at hand.

Ser Jaime is writing another letter, pauses to look at her as the afternoon sun turns his hair the color of molten gold. His little cub is working well and he knows she takes great pride in being his valet, making sure he looks perfect. He notes that she’s looking flushed and tired-she’s already rubbed oil into his gloves tenderly, made sure there is water and wine, anything that might bring him comfort. 

Beads of sweat are starting to jewel Sansa’s forehead as she folds the cloth deftly, faster than most could without chains. He can see her skin blushing, all over her pale body.

Ser Jaime pauses, looks up.

“Little cub.” he calls as Sansa keeps folding. “Little sister.”  
She isn’t paying attention.

The chair scrapes back across the floor. Ser Jaime stands, speaks firmly.

“Sansa.”

Sansa slowly puts down the embroidered surcoat she’s folding next to the bundle.  
Looking at him, he sees her face has fallen, her eyes are downcast and he thinks he can see tears.

Ser Jaime holds out his hand. “Come here.”

Sansa takes it. She’s thinking of punishments--none of which are anything she likes. 

He takes her hand, feels her trembling, sits her on her cushion. Ser Jaime walks over to the dresser, picking up a wooden hairbrush. Sansa’s head is held up and she’s clearly trying to be brave, sitting on the edge of her scarlet cushion. He sits down in the chair, the brush in one hand.

“Come here.”

Sansa walks to the chair slowly, her heart in her throat, ready for whatever may happen.

He pats his lap, picks up the brush. “Up.”

Sansa slowly folds herself onto his lap waiting for the something, the reason she’s been called out, the reason her lion is upset. She just wants it done.

Instead, she feels strong, callused fingers moving through her fiery-red hair, working out the tangles that snarl the ends. With a nudge, she knows to move forward-and he strokes her hair, unknotting the ends as she does for his sister. Ser nuzzles her neck, nips at her ear, picks up the brush. Slowly, her Ser starts to brush her hair, Sansa relaxing against him, feeling the slow, steady motion of the bristles through her hair, the gentleness of the brush against her scalp, the slow, easy breath of her Ser as he works. 

Sansa’s septa told her to brush her hair at least three hundred times so it shone. Ser Jaime also cares about how her hair shines; she’s lost count of the strokes but there’s no hurry about it. Sansa feels so warm and safe in the sunlight against her Ser that she starts to rumble low in her throat, his little cub purring under his hand. Still more strokes and Sansa feels she’ d melt away if it wasn’t for him and the chair supporting her and her eyes close in perfect comfort, perfect trust.

Then she feels arms around her, rocking her softly. “There you go.” her Ser whispers, words close and warm at her ear. “My girl.” He purrs back, gently rubbing his golden head against her red one. “All mine.” he whispers, Sansa breaking into a slow, sweet smile curling against his chest, feeling the rumble of his purr, his arms around her.

Ser Jaime has always adored the finer things; but the finest, he thinks, is his chained girl resting in his lap. Later he’ll tell her he knows it’s done out of love, but it’s not for lack of a valet that he has her, not to tidy his room, be a maid, that what matters is that he owns her, that she’s the pleasure all in herself. He’ll feed her roast capon from his fingers, hold his goblet to her for wine, watching her drink, her lips reddened, imagine how they’ll taste when kissed. He’ll curl next to her in bed one hand on her chains and think on his good fortune to have her warm and sweet and beside him, his own russet cub, strong and beautiful--one who wears her chains like rich jewels.

For now, he holds her and she holds him, both of them breathing together, peacefully, Sansa dozing, knowing that she’s his.

Three hundred strokes isn’t just an old septa’s tale; her hair shines like rubies as it flows over her owner’s chest. It is beautiful.


	50. Oysters  (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delicacy.
> 
> Manners.
> 
> Savor.

Sansa sits at the huge table at the banqueting hall in Casterly Rock, looking at something she’s never confronted before, at least not like this. 

On a platter of rock salt sit eight oysters, opened,each rough on the outside, smooth and shimmering on the inside, the shellfish resting within. They are beautiful and strange at the same time, Sansa thinks--and at this moment she is utterly unsure what to do with them. 

Cersei sits, beside her, watching, the tiniest hint of a smile behind her emerald eyes. She enjoys watching Sansa be puzzled, squirm--she’s a quick study and a clever girl, but Cersei wants perfect. Besides, there is always something to learn.

“Little dove.” Cersei speaks gently yet firmly. “You have these in front of you. What do you do?”

Sansa pauses to think, the chains around her ankles clinking softly under her rosy skirt. Then she looks up with a twinkle in her eye, looking up at her Lady.  
“I watch you to see what you do.” she smiles. “Your Grace.”

Cersei swallows a smile, looking coolly at Sansa. She’s going to have to tell Ser Jaime to take Sansa out to cut a switch later. Her little dove looks so pretty with stripes.  
“Very good. “She pauses, her eyes flashing emerald, running her finger softly along Sansa’s neck. “Cheeky today, aren’t you?”

Sansa smiles. “A little, my Lady.” admiring the light turning her Lady’s hair to brilliant gold. Cersei brushes Sansa’s hand, rewarding her with a delicate smile.

“Pay attention. You will have to eat these under important circumstances. Gracefully. Beside me.”

Cersei takes the knife beside the oyster, loosening the meat. “Don’t spill.” She lifts the oyster to her lips, breathing in the scent. “Show that you are enjoying it.” Her eyes connect with Sansa’s and she can see Sansa flush, her eyes grow wide. Cersei locks eyes with her, sipping the fluid from the oyster, watching Sansa tremble.  
“Delicious.” Cersei touches the tip of her tongue to the meat, showing Sansa a brief flicker of pink, then closing her lips.

Sansa sits still but Cersei can see her shudder. 

“Why, little dove. What’s gotten into you?” Cersei savors the look on her girl’s face, her low breath.  
“One might think you weren’t paying attention.”

Cersei returns to the shellfish, sipping out the rest of the liquid. “Hmm. Brine. Salt.” She looks at Sansa. “The slightest hint of cream.’

Cersei tips the shell to slide the oyster into her mouth, takes two long, slow bites, then swallows, closing her eyes to taste. Then she returns the empty shell to the plate.

A smile plays on her lips as Cersei leans towards Sansa, her breath warm on her girl’s pink lips. Feeling Sansa tremble, Cersei whispers, hot and silky.  
“And what do you taste, little dove?”

Cersei wraps Sansa’s hair into her hand, clenching it into her fist, feeling Sansa bend under her. She slides her tongue into Sansa’s willing mouth, feeling Sansa twine hers slowly. Cersei slides back, smiling.

“Greedy cub.”

“Now. What did you taste.?”

Sansa pauses. “Sea water. A little bit like tears, a bit sweet and ...”

Sansa’s eyes open wide as Cersei grins, tugging back at her hair, whispering into her ear. “I thought a naughty little dove like you would like these. Taste. Now.” With Cersei pulling her hair, tipping her head back Sansa follows the lead; breathing in the scent, sipping out the fluid as Cersei whispers to her not to miss a drop. Sansa lets the oyster slip into her mouth, Cersei enjoying her puzzled look at the new slipperiness in her mouth, then a dainty bite and swallow, returning the shell gracefully to the tray with a tiny smile to her Lady. Cersei tugs harder at her hair, talking lowly and softly.

“You’ll be having these right beside me. You’re going to have to be very good.” Sansa trembles, shaking. “Sitting there. Tasting that. Looking at me. You’re going to be such a wet, slippery girl aren’t you? “ Cersei grins, tightening her grip. “And you’re going to have to be so quiet. So gracious. So good. Knowing...” Cersei twists, leaning into whisper “...that when this is done I’m going to take out my boredom. Pinching. Biting. Clawing” then growling harshly, “...”filling you up with my hand. My sluttish.” Tug. Sansa pants, softly moaning.”Greedy.” One hard pull. “Little dove.”

Cersei snaps her fingers, covers Sansa’s mouth so she can only writhe in silence, thrashing as she comes, her breast rising and falling. “Good girl. My good girl.” whispers Cersei, leaning over for a kiss, feels Sansa shudder hard, thrust and collapse against the bench.

Cersei smiles, then hears a tap on the flagstones.

“Oh. I see.” 

Before Sansa can sweep over her skirt, Cersei dives, coming up from the floor with two slick marble spheres on a string.

Cersei holds them in front of Sansa’s face, smiling wickedly, watching as her girl blushes. 

“I’m glad we’ve had time for a lesson.” Cersei looks at Sansa, teeth white, smile fanged. “You’ll need to practice. A banquet with your Lady is a long time-and my little dove must practice her manners.” She whispers “And strengthen her muscles.” Sansa blushes. “Don’t you think?”

“Lick.”

Sansa takes the spheres into her mouth, sucking and licking them clean as she looks downcast. When she’s done, Cersei opens her hand to take them, tucks them away.

“Good girl. Sit up straight.”

Cersei looks on as Sansa smooths herself, calms.

“There are more oysters here. Fresh.”

Cersei looks at Sansa, arching a fine blonde brow.

“Delicious.” Cersei whispers. “A delicacy.”

Sansa’s cheeks flush.

Cersei folds her hands to watch.

“Now. Show me how you enjoy them."

The lioness’ eyes sparkle as she watches her cub lift the shell to her lips, breathe in and close her eyes to sip in pleasure. There’s several more oysters and she wants to see what her little dove can do.


	51. Out (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The art of disguise.
> 
> An evening out.
> 
> The value of impatience.

Sansa’s never worn breeches before; they feel exceedingly strange, her motion completely different. She pulls her hair back, checks to see that the bindings she has at least do something, pulls a surcoat over all, then a cloak and scurries off into the half-dark of sunset following the note she found left on her pillow with the clothes.

Despite having been nude with her lovers, Sansa can’t remember ever having felt so naked. She clutches the cloak around her, oddly nervous that someone could see her calves, the shape of her legs, her rear. While she tries to hurry while still moving at a perfectly usual pace, she is curious as to how men do not feel exposed every single day, what it is that they do with their hips when they walk , how they can take such huge steps. Everything.

In a way it’s freeing, but it’s puzzling--and Sansa does find that her clothing makes her move faster, enough that she’s at the address Ser’s given her slightly before sunset, though the sky’s cloudy, the air with a bit of evening chill.

(Sansa’s not a fool; she knows there’s at least one guard tailing her; her Lady sees to it, especially now.)

She makes her way to the back corner of the tavern, where there’s an empty table. Sansa briefly considers spitting or scratching to blend in but decides not because no one else is. Everything is interesting from the smells of sizzling meat to the sour sharpness from the barrel of pickled pig’s feet. She keeps her hood up, looking around, curious, half expecting a fight but all there is is the rattle of bone dice, the slide of coins, men looking around the room. Sansa keeps herself concealed, watching, worried that perhaps someone might give her away. One of the men looks right at her, turns to his companion says something about chicken, then turns muttering that he prefers beef.

Sunset comes and the tavern starts to fill; full of the scent of damp wool and leather, dirt, worse things, the heavy dark scent of men. It’s noisier, but still low-men go to their favorite tables, sit together, drink, wander off. Sansa sits quietly, almost invisible-everyone else is intent about their business, low voiced. She can’t help it but starts to drowse in the heat of her cloak, the warm dark of her hood.

“Boy.”

Sansa’s head jerks up to look.

Her Ser stands above her. Even wrapped in a deep hooded black cloak, he’s fierce, scratched, eyes jade-green. Sansa catches a glimpse of one torn shirt sleeve, quick breath of blood, metal, leather, his  golden hair rumpled smeared with dirt.

Ser’s in no mood for a greeting but tosses a coin into her lap, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her outside to the back--a dark alley, stone and mud, other shadowy figures.

“He’s come right from sparring.” realizes Sansa in her last full thought. Ser’s hands are quick, shoving her down, not caring if she’s graceful or not.

“On your knees. Now.” Sansa’s knees bang on stone and it hurts, but she ignores the flash of pain as she feels his hand on the back of her head, rubbing her face against his breeches, fucking against her face. “Like that taste, boy? I’ll bet you do.” he growls.  
“Mouth. Open.”  
Ser snarls, pulling her towards him, his hand knotted in her hair and quicker than she can think she’s there. 

As Sansa’s working at his laces, he shoves her  hand away ripping them open, his hard cock shoving at her open mouth. She takes him all the way in, breathing through her nose as she’s learned. With a growl of her own she reaches around her Ser’s thighs pulling him closer into her, able to hold herself tight against him, opening just a bit deeper enough that he groans as if in agony, feeling her lips against his stones, then pulling out to fuck her back again, her  mouth and throat slick for him, her lips and tongue dripping onto her neck, into her hair. Sansa’s eyes blaze bright at the feel of his hands pulling at her hair, his hips thrusting into her mouth, taking him deep enough that she can barely breathe for a moment, briefly gasping for air.

“My whore of a squire loves my cock enough to choke on it.”  
Ser Jaime rocks his hips, pushing into her deeper, feeling her reach to grab and claw at his back, her eyes briefly closed in bliss, then looking back up at him huge blue pools.  
With a harsh thrust that he sheathes himself to the hilt in her throat,watching her eyes shimmer with salt water even as she slurps and licks more furiously. Sansa feels her mouth full of salt and sweat, the taste of her Ser after he’s been fighting, his own musk and spices, dirt, the copper sting of blood and he’s fucking her so hard it hurts--and her cunt’s achingly wet, so wet she growls in pleasure around his cock, only making him snarl, fuck harder.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it, pretty boy-those pretty eyes, looking at me like that. those sweet pink lips. Did you fuck your hand at night thinking of taking your Ser’s hard cock?”

Ser Jaime’s breath is ragged and frenzied, Sansa noticing the bruises and scratches blossoming on his skin through his torn shirt. Pain and fury spur him and she loves it, growling low in her throat at his sweat and musk on her lips, her world nothing but her mouth his cock, this perfect hunger, hungrier still at the taste of him, the spice and salt and skin that she dreams of.

Ser Jaime puts a gloved hand on her throat, frenzied further at the sight of the black leather against her pale skin. “You are a slut, aren’t you? I think you like gagging-to make my cock have a tighter fit.” He shoves hard; Sansa chokes, her mouth full, lips tears stinging at her eyes.

He snarls. “That’s right-your mouth had better water, because your Ser’s going to fuck your throat.” grinning wickedly “or it’s back to whatever backwater house you sprang from. Whore.” He presses enough to make it tighter, Sansa breathing hard through her nose as her mouth drips onto her cloak.  
Sansa groans, feeling her nipples ache, her cunt clench. Ser Jaime looks down stares into her damp eyes, the emerald fire blazing through her, admiring her mouth stretched around his cock, her soft noises and the way she opens herself up for him, slick and wet. “ I know you have a hungry little ass-but this is what I want to fuck--and your Ser fucks whatever part of you he wants--” pulls out then thrusts back in groaning then snarling. “Every. Part.”  
He pulls back his hand to sink it back into her hair, fucking her face as Sansa matches his slide, keeping him warm and wet inside her. The first hint of his seed makes her moan, her mouth water, her tongue lapping for each drop of salt. Ser Jaime pushes back into her mouth, eyes wild, growling.

Sansa’s wet mouth, her tongue tracing the underside of his cock, the motion of her lips are driving him mad and all he can do is fuck. His eyes are wild as he pulls at her hair, “My whore, that silky little throat, you’d slurp down my seed all day if you could, my cocksucker, mine.”

Sansa laves the firm ridges the soft slit, devouring her Ser’s cock with every inch of her tongue in mouth, the furious hunger to have him inside her, the brutal, delicious slip and rub of his cock as he fucks her mouth in his bloodied, golden frenzy. 

He pulls her hair so hard she almost cries but rises up to sheathe him as he slides out. “Not yet, slut, your Ser needs to watch your form. “  
“Impress me.” he snarls, grinding his teeth to try and hold back a few moments. 

Tears roll down Sansa’s face as she takes him deeper, sliding her head, working her mouth, tightening her lips around the root of his cock, spittle flowing freely from her lips and mouth. Her fingers rake red marks down his lower back and thighs and it’s then that he roars, pulling her face towards him, slamming his cock into her mouth so hard she squeals around it.

“So it’s a hard mouthfucking my pretty boy wants?” He snarls wrapping her hair around his hand, shamelessly slamming his cock into her mouth. “Open up whore, your Ser wants to come right down your sweet throat.” growling “...just like it's your tight little ass.”

Sansa’s face is wet with tears and spit, smudged with dirt, her mouth slick as she grabs tighter sinking her fingernails into his flesh, all of her body his, all around her the heavy scent of dirt, leather, metal, sweat and oh, blood and his own spices.

Ser’s panting, stiffening in her mouth and Sansa knows to add just a touch of teeth before she slides him all the way in breathing through the nose as he fucks, working her mouth and lip. She can taste the first drops of seed, groans like she’s starving, slides him deep and

His wordless roar pierces the air as he pushes his hardest into her, pouring his seed down her throat.  
Sansa gulps and swallows as hard as she can, feeling like she’s drinking in life itself salty and slick. In his final shudder, he fills her mouth one more time and she rolls his seed on her tongue before she swallows.  
When Sansa’s swallowed and wiped her lips, Ser Jaime is shaking, only the wall keeping him upright.

Ser pulls her up, kissing her long and full on the lips his tongue twining with hers, tasting himself on her sweet tongue. He can no longer speak, only open his arms to hold Sansa close in the alley where she’s just knelt to swallow his seed. In a moment he opens his eyes, looks at her.

“Sweetest girl. And sweetest boy.” he whispers. breath still ragged.

Sansa looks at him, an unspoken question in her eyes. 

Her Ser laughs. “Yes, I’m supposed to bugger my squire aren’t I?” he purrs. “But I couldn’t wait.” 

He laughs, nuzzling Sansa’s neck as she laughs in pleasure. “My gorgeous filthy cub.” he purrs. “I’m only afraid of one thing. “ His emerald eyes sparkle and Sansa grins.

“And what is that, Ser?”

Ser  Jaime leans against the wall, hair in a golden tumble around his head, spiky with sweat, He looks into her eyes and purrs, stroking along her cheekbone. “If he knew how you love having your throat fucked, drink down seed like it’s honey, how you work that tongue, Renly would sweep you away. I think he’d overlook what he’d consider insurmountable issues for a sweet cocksucker like you.” Sansa looks nervous then ventures a smile.  
 Ser Jaime bites at Sansa’s neck, worrying it as she relaxes like a scruffed kitten. “I’d never let him have my little cub.” Ser Jaime murmurs. “Never.” He grins. “Even if it could change the course of the Seven Kingdoms-I’d go to war for your mouth. I’m the only one who ever has you, little cub.” he snarls, smiling. “Mine." “Good.” Sansa whispers.

”Good. That's how I want it. And I get what I want.” Ser Jaime grins, kissing her. “I’ll still make you work for it.” He bites at her earlobe. “I’d keep that sweet mouth in practice if I were you-my twin brother’s never fucked such a pretty boy’s throat . Yet.” He pauses. “Neither has my sister. “  
Ser Jaime remains silent, smiling at her expression, knowing he won’t respond any further. She’s so amusing when she’s curious. He kisses her on the top of the head, rubbing his head against hers.

“Am I more interesting as a girl or a boy, Ser?”

Ser Jaime tilts his head to look at her. “It’s only one time. Clearly we’ll have to try a few more so I can make an informed decision.” He laughs, clutching her to him. Before he kisses he whispers. “Now you’re going to slide off those breeches so I can fuck you up against this wall. And consider.” Sansa purrs, her lips vibrating against his as they kiss, her hands already working at her laces.


	52. Silence, Leather, Sweetness  (SerxLadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rainy day.
> 
> Surprise treats.
> 
> Silence and joy.

They sit together, silent, Cersei for once resting on her brother’s shoulder, their golden heads touching. Cersei’s hair is a tumble of spun gold, her half-closed eyes emerald still with a few flashes of wildfire green.  
Ser Jaime’s skin is soft and when Cersei brushes her lips against his shoulder she tastes salt, breathes in the scent of spices and honey they both share, his mingled with leather and musk. She strokes his bare chest, gently tracing a white scar.

Outside the rain drizzles down, but they don’t mind that a storm blew in, rattling the ships in Lannisport, booming along the lower areas of the Rock. 

Up here it sounds like a heartbeat, one that pumps blood in time with their own, in time with their sister’s soft breath.

Sansa has fallen asleep on the floor, her head pillowed on the spit-shined foot of her Ser’s boot, arm curled round the other boot and on top of Cersei’s foot, twined around them like a red and white ribbon.

When Cersei had lifted her gown, the hour that the rains came in, it was like a nameday gift; her little dove gasped to see boots like her Ser’s, but formed in warm, blood-red leather. Her sapphire eyes widened, her mouth watered to see them next to the black, familiar pair of her Ser’s, Sansa's whole self dizzied in excitement.  
Sitting together, Ser and her Lady had exchanged a look, grinning, then tilting their heads in unison to look at her.

“Well, little sister.” whispered Cersei. “I’ve heard from an extremely reliable source how much you like these.” Cersei watched Sansa quiver, her pale body trembling, her chains clinking like little bells, then Cersei slowly winked at Ser Jaime, seeing it returned in a flash of emerald matching hers.

“Show me.” Cersei purred, reaching down to stroke the red silk of her girl’s hair, feeling her breathe heavily. With a gentle whisper of “Yes, Your Grace.” Sansa’s tongue was working slow and tender on the leather, her Lady feeling it press against her instep, over the toes, sighing in pleasure, seeing her girl’s cunt already glistening.  
She smiled watching Sansa at work lovingly kissing each stitch, the round curve of the heel, soft licks and kisses up to the knee, lost herself in the pleasure of each kiss, each tongue stroke, _oh my little dove, my sister_ till she saw her girl looking up at her with joy.

“Oh, you’re not done yet.” purred Cersei, Ser Jaime smirking as he stretched out his black boots, handing Sansa a goblet of water to drink. “You’ll need this.” he growled, “because I expect your tongue to be just as busy on my boots. “ He caught Sansa’s eye as she drank, winking and smiling. “I already know you’re wetter than it is outside. Too bad for you.” he grinned. “I know a little girl who needs to get to work on her Ser’s boots.” Sansa’s eyes burned bright and blue as she leaned down to lick.  
Cersei saw the pale curve of her lower back and couldn’t resist, putting her feet up, crossing them at the ankles like a lady though wearing a knight’s boots.

“Challenges are good for you, sweetling.” Cersei chuckled taking a sip of wine, passing the cup to Jaime as he drank greedily. “And no, you can’t look up. You have a job to do.” she pauses. “And my little dove has the most clever imagination.”

Cersei heard a muffled wail as Sansa starts to caress Ser Jaime’s boots with lips and tongue, brightening them to a damp black. Above her, Cersei pulled Jaime to her for a kiss; plenty of her own tongue, soft sighs and writhing as her brother, her lover slipped his tongue inside her, making her moan low in her throat, Ser Jaime growling as he felt Sansa’s licking intensify, Cersei moaning, biting at her lover’s lips as she felt her girl’s body twist and tremble under her boots.

(They both know Sansa loves to see them kiss, caress, feels drunk on their beauty, can’t resist it--and how they love her for it.) 

Cersei had rubbed her feet in pleasure against Sansa’s back, felt her twitch, gasp as she licked at her Ser’s boots--then Cersei had given herself to the pleasure of watching Ser Jaime grin, whisper encouragements to their little girl, letting her lick and lick as the rain poured down outside, the room warm, scented with beeswax, the smoke and salt of driftwood on the fire, everything golden, warm, perfect--

\--and now Sansa is asleep, like a kitten at rest clutching the ball of yarn she’s so fiercely played with. Her hair pools like garnets round the shining jet of her Ser’s boots, her body ivory against the warm ruby of her Lady’s boots, one still resting on the small of her back. She’s making soft, warm dreaming murmurs, still inflamed by the scent, the taste of leather, the closeness of her lovers.

“She’s drooling on me.” whispers Ser Jaime. “Naughty little cub.” He grins at Cersei. “Shhh.” she whispers. “Don’t wake her.” Cersei feels tingling from where Sansa is at rest over her boot, knows she’ll have to move eventually but loves having their little sister where she belongs, at their feet, warm and dreaming of them. Ser Jaime puts an arm around Cersei. “We’re very lucky to have such a devoted little sister.” he murmurs softly. “Even if she drools.” Sansa makes a snuffling noise as she moves softly, the firelight painting her with brushstrokes of gold. “And snores.” Cersei grins back. It’s still startling for her to grin, to laugh--Ser Jaime is still startled by it, but he enjoys it too. He finishes the dregs of wine in the goblet, Cersei raising a brow in annoyance, then smiling, watching as Sansa’s foot twitches in her sleep. 

“Chasing rabbits.” Cersei whispers, leaning back against her brother, breathing in the gleaming beauty of the fire, the candles, their touches, their sweetest girl cuddled at their feet, like being in a ball of light, a beating golden heart. Sansa will wake and they’ll tend to her the way she needs; for now it is beautiful, shimmering silence and comfort, enough to conquer the rain and clouds outside, a pride enough to be their own warm, unconquered sun.


	53. Prelude: Sed Non Satiata (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa doesn't.
> 
> Ser Jaime does.
> 
> A hungry girl.

Sansa feels like she is going to die. 

Six days,each morning with her hands bound, chained to her pillow watching while her Ser sits in his favorite chair. He leisurely strokes himself each day, fist around his cock enjoying how intently she watches, how she licks her lips.  
He delights in the furious hunger in her sapphire eyes, knows she loves to watch him touch himself-and that she hasn’t been allowed for six days.

Sansa whimpers, staring, a hungry girl who can look at her favorite treats and not taste any.

“Missing this, little cub?” He sighs, making long slow thrusts so she can see every inch of his cock sliding into his hand, hilt to rosy head, his golden hair damp with sweat. Her lips part and the pink of her tongue slips out. “Hmm.” he growls, fucking his hand harder. “I bet you didn’t know your mouth and your cunt could drip at the same time, did you?” He comes over and before Sansa can say anything, thrusts three fingers into her slippery cunt, hard and fast.  
She gasps at the sudden intrusion, then yowls again because she is empty.

Ser Jaime smiles. “Thank you, little love. Now I don’t need to find the oil.”  
Fucking his hand, he sighs, looking into her eyes.  
“You really are the sweetest of sisters--all that just for me.”  
He groans. thrusting, whispering under his breath, then snarling “Your pretty ass is just for me too.”  
Sansa groans back, wriggling her hips. “No, little slut.” Ser laughs. “Not yet, not today...but can’t you feel that lovely present inside you, all thick and hard? Doesn’t that feel nice?“ 

Sansa moans, feeling her ass clench around the last, biggest leather plug from the box of gifts, feeling a spark, a tingle around the nerves and oh, she realizes, she wants it, wants it so much, wants to come with her Ser buried inside her to the hilt.  
She lets out a soft cry.  
Begging hasn’t worked.

His smile is knife-bright and cruel, his half-closed eyes bright emerald, still locked with hers.  
“Think how your Ser’s cock is going to feel in there.” Ser pushes into his slick hand again, using the grip he’s shown her he likes best.  
Her hands wriggle in frustration, wanting to touch him. She grits her teeth.  
“About time you learned to take it like a slave girl--isn’t it?”  
“Yes.” Sansa whispers, her mind a haze of want. “Yes, Ser.”  
“You’ll be so hot and tight around me.” Ser slows his fist, loosening and tightening and Sansa wishes he was in her hand or her mouth or her cunt or anywhere he wanted _please_

“My own naughty little slave girl.”  
He grins, looking at her.  
“I’ll have to whip you before I fuck you. I’ve heard it’s customary in Volantis and other places--and what’s the point of having a slave girl if I can’t do it properly?”

Sansa’s eyes drip too, gasping and moaning, unable to touch or squeeze or do anything to help relieve herself. 

“Think about that.” Ser Jaime growls.  
"Me fucking your tight little ass after I’ve put some proper stripes on it. You can be brave. The squires get them if they’re bad.” He laughs. “I believe they get buggered too. I get a sweet little slave girl and the prettiest squire begging for my cock.”

Ser Jaime smiles a sharp smile. “How did I get to be such a fortunate man?” He fucks harder, faster, growling, looking right at Sansa. “Such a slut--hungry for her Ser to bugger her like a slutty little squire, fuck her ass like the loveliest, dirtiest alley whore.” He gasps “Like my slave girl--all full of my cock, so greedy-think I'll fuck her till she screams."

Sansa cries out high and sweet, it’s almost too much, but she’s not allowed.

All she can do is cry out.

Ser groans, thrusting harder, Sansa rocking her hips in unison as he does, gasping with him.  
With a low roar he finally spills, one hard long jet of seed, two small, dripping in pearl strands from his fingers. Ser leans back and sighs sweetly, relaxed and peaceful. “Such a good fuck--that oil of yours is better than any I’ve ever had.”  
He purrs. “Will have to remember that. You’re the sweetest of girls to help me so.” 

Sansa shivers, watching him stalk towards her, golden and beautiful with his sharp, lascivious grin. _Ohhhh._

“Sweet girls get treats. And you like this best of all, my filthy girl.” Sansa opens her mouth, mewling, hoping and he slides his fingers in, spilling his seed into her mouth, making sure she gets the biggest drops, smiling as she laps.  
She sucks at his fingers like honey sweets, frenzied at the salty, spicy taste, the feel of her Ser’s hand, taking them deep like she does his cock, wishing, gulping as much as she can.

Ser Jaime smiles, using his clean hand to stroke her hair, run his fingers through her scarlet tresses.

“Good girl.” he purrs. “My little whore always hungry for her Ser’s seed.” Sansa’s tongue flickers out and then he pulls his fingers away.  
With a wicked grin, Ser Jaime deliberately wipes his hand across her face and hair. “Oh. I’ve missed.”  
Ser tilts his head to look.”But it’s so becoming on you. Such a pretty face should have only the finest things to adorn it....” he nibbles her ear “...and I’m one of them. Too bad for you.” He chuckles, patting her on the head. “My good girl.”  
He dresses and leaves with a kiss on the top of her head. Sansa’s shackled, his seed drying on her face and a wet spot on her favorite pillow. She moves over to the other side so she can curl up and be dry.

Sansa’s been afraid of it, but now prays silently that the Seven are merciful and Ser fucks her ass soon.  
“They can all watch.” she thinks. "Every last one."  
Sansa sounds so much like Ser that she laughs.  
Then she lies down, trying to think of dull things to cool her appetite. She does her best and falls asleep, still licking her lips for one last taste.


	54. History (SerxLadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lesson now.
> 
> One to come.
> 
> Sweet dreams.

Afterward-- when Sansa’s gotten a small basin of warm water, smoothed away any stickiness, then dabbed at herself and climbed back in--is when they talk. 

Their words are idle and sweet; the curtains of their bed at Casterly Rock make it a warm, dark cave, a three-chambered heart. Their den is heavy with the scent of beeswax from blown-out candles, sweat, the lions’ scent of spices and honey, salt and musk and the dear sweet scent of their girl, a hint of lavender--with more than a few notes of golden, fruited Dornish oil.

Ser Jaime finds it better than any imaginable sept’s incense. He breathes in deeply, Sansa snuggling against his chest while Cersei rests her head on his right shoulder, idly tousling his golden hair. (All of them reach out to touch each other even if only a fingertip here, an ankle or toe there, all connected.) He purrs sweetly, replete and satisfied. 

“My beautiful sisters. “ he grins sharply in the dark. He feels Cersei shift to rest her arm on his chest, to look him in the eye, feels the warmth of Sansa's smile. “Now I wonder.” he murmurs lowly, innocently, “looking at us--which one of you would be Rhaenys and which would be Visenya?” Sansa can’t help it but instantly giggles, her chains jingling, nuzzling her head against her Ser’s chest. It tickles and he laughs, then feels Cersei’s fingers sink into his shoulder so as to not dislodge herself from her perch.

“Our little cub is very playful...” he growls. “And very sweet. “ he whispers, nipping at her ear so she squeals. Ser Jaime tries to turn over and finds Cersei weighting his chest.

“And I’m not sweet, dear brother?” Despite the dark he can swear he hears her eyebrow rise, sense her crooking her head at him, feel her bemused smile. Sansa feels her Lady nip at her arm and lies still. Sansa is shaking with silent giggles, shaking her Ser’s chest, Cersei feeling the vibrations along her arm with her beloved brother’s breath. “You doubt our little cub could conquer?”  
“Little dove.” says Cersei and snaps her fingers. “Left”. Sansa rolls swiftly, Ser Jaime notices the loss and suddenly in a swirl of strength and golden hair, Cersei’s in the middle, arranging herself more comfortably. Sansa has taken his pillow.

Ser Jaime growls softly, then slides back beside his sister.  
“Always taking your half out of the middle, aren’t you?” He smiles.

“Much better.” purrs Cersei, butting her head against her brother’s arm till he lets her rest her golden head on his chest. She brushes it with her lips, curling her other arm close around Sansa. Ser Jaime’s growl has become a purr and he brushes his lips against her forehead, reaches out to stroke Sansa’s fingertips, feels her hand back his pillow. Cersei grins, satisfied.

“I’m going to sleep.” she murmurs “with strong and playful on either side.You can decide which is which.” She kisses Sansa’s lips as the ruby-haired girl’s eyes start to drift closed.  
“Night Ser. Night, Lady.” Sansa murmurs, her breath soft on her Lady’s skin.

Cersei then leans and kisses Jaime long and full on the lips. “Mmmm.” she sighs, then flicks her tongue at her brother’s ear, smiling wickedly. “Tomorrow, my love, we’ll fight again to see who’s Aegon. Our little sister will be ravaged and I’m certain it will be educational.” She expects a squirm or squeal but Sansa is already asleep. Ser Jaime chuckles.  
“I’ll be in the middle. You know it.” He whispers a word, one of their own into Cersei’s ear and she relaxes, grows smooth and quiet.  
Ser Jaime rubs his head against Cersei’s until he sleeps, his hand still outstretched to touch Sansa’s fingers too.

Cersei composes herself in the warm darkness, quietly ensuring it is safe to close her eyes, let the breath of her lovers carry her to sleep. In the sweet scented air, she breathes in deeply, lets it out.

The Queen whispers, though they cannot hear: “I love you.” She can say it here. Always does.

It’s then that she closes her eyes, her breath at last slow and smooth.  
Cersei’s last thought before she sleeps is her lovers on at her side, guarding her, steering her towards dawn.


	55. Rest (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain.
> 
> Soothing.
> 
> Dreams.

Everything hurts Cersei today. Her hair’s been braided so tightly it’s pulled back at her forehead for hours and has only started to loosen, there’s a bent piece in her belt she didn’t notice till it was too late so it’s been digging into her waist all day and the chair she’s been sitting in has been slightly the wrong size with her skirt so she’s had to contort to stay still and graceful during hours of council session.

Cersei’s head aches and she wants to scream. Stomping down the hall, she feels like a ball of fire and fury barely contained in her pale skin, wonders if she might burst and take the whole godsdamned Keep with her. The session made her want to knock heads together and yell for them all to shut up but she couldn’t do that, just smile and mutter a few snide comments under her breath. Every muscle in her body hurts and her smile is stiff. Even her face aches and her teeth hurt from grinding. 

(Worst, she’s flowering. Nobody can know that. Not anyone there anyway.)

She reaches her chambers and slams the door, trying to breathe. Fortunately, she has someone who’s there for her, who understands that sometimes her Lady needs to see red on white, stripes on skin to feel soothed, who wears them like jewels.  
Sansa. Her girl.

Sansa looks up, sees her Lady’s face. There’s already a fresh cut and peeled switch by the dresser, Sansa in her loose gold robe. Sansa picks it up in her teeth as she’s been taught, comes forward, eyes full of fear, excitement, joy. 

The Queen takes the switch from between Sansa’s white teeth and Sansa drops her robe, presents herself nude and graceful, pale skin with flaming hair tucked over her shoulder. Of course she’s perfection and her noises and tears will be perfect too. The Queen smacks the switch on her hand, once, twice, feeling the burn and sting before she crisscrosses Sansa’s pretty thighs good and hard, so hard her girl will have to bite a pillow to keep from screaming and...

Cersei walks over to her dressing table, slumps into her chair. It feels like nothing will move and she doesn’t want to see Sansa’s disappointed eyes, see her cub sad, but she can’t move her arm and she just wants everything to stop. 

Were she anyone else, she would cry. But she does not. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, feeling the heavy chafing of the rags between her thighs, the horrible stickiness, slight nausea. Cersei tries to fling the switch away but it only lands at the foot of the dressing table, not across the room. She closes her eyes in frustration, willing the world away.

Then she feels fingertips at her temples, gently rubbing them with lavender oil. Cersei breathes in the sharply sweet scent, feels her breathing slow. She feels fingers working at her too tight braid, taking out each bone pin and putting it in the proper dish till her golden hair is loose, flowing like a maiden’s. Sansa’s fingers comb through it slowly, dragging the oil till everything is softer, clouded.  
As if from a distance, Cersei hears Sansa ask if she may touch her, undress her. Cersei nods yes, her lips too heavy to speak, her system still pumping bile instead of blood. Off comes the belt-and Cersei lifts one arm, then the other till she’s out of her dress and in her smallclothes, now bloodied too. Cersei snarls.

Without any other words, Sansa leads Cersei to the bath, lets her soak, then in silence lathers her own body and hair with lavender soap to tend to her Lady, very gently, very tenderly. Cersei looks at Sansa and thinks of mermaids, said to be singing at the rocks past Lannisport--but she’s got one right here, stroking her body with her red hair, the tub her tiny sea. Sansa takes tiny granules of sea salt and Dornish oil, starts to rub along her shoulders and the Queen lets out one shuddering sigh, taking a moment to tug on the gold chain around Sansa’s neck, then closing her eyes in peace.

(Sansa thinks of the cats outside the kitchens at Winterfell; the wild ones missing ears and eyes from fights, sometimes bearing fresh claw marks. They’d come for scraps, but would scratch her if she tried to pet them. Sansa waited for hours once, outside with scraps of old bread and bacon fat, leaving them around her feet. Arya would jump in the middle to make them scatter and hiss, but after chasing her sister back, Sansa would come back, arrange the food around her feet. One ginger cat would come and eat--and after days, let Sansa touch along her back, the top of her head. Later, she’d try to scratch, but then she’d come back, let Sansa touch her. One day, the cat purred. Just once, but Sansa felt the purr rumble under her fingers, under the matted ginger fur.

Later, Sansa learned embroidery and dance and manners so she couldn’t see the cats; but she knew how to wait and listen, watch scratches turn to purrs, snarls of thread to flowers, stumbles to graceful slides across the floor, awkward arms, knees,legs to perfect curtseys. Sansa returns to form, stroking her Lady’s shoulders just the way she likes it, massaging Cersei’s hands with the Dornish oil all in perfect silence only a head tilt there, a nod, a touch.)

When the bath is done, Sansa wraps her Lady in a clean towel, then in a clean chemise, making sure she’s dry. She helps Cersei into bed, gives her a small glass of strongwine for the pain in her belly, rubs Cersei’s temples till her emerald eyes half close. Sansa asks her if she wants cuddles-Cersei shakes her head no, but squeezes her girl’s hand three times.

Sansa smiles bright because she knows what that means, curls up on the other side of the bed with a pillow and her own sapphire eyes flutter shut. Outside the afternoon rolls on, sounds of the Keep and the city, but in bed everything is quiet and sweet and smells of lavender. Eyes closed, Cersei whispers “Good girl.” loudly enough that Sansa can hear it, feels three squeezes back on her hand and with that, the Lioness Queen is at rest, her loyal girl, her cub at her side.

Cersei doesn’t say it but she thinks it. For right now, that is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May your dreams be all of sun  
> and heated sand and sky  
> When you wake may all your singing  
> help your heart to fly  
> May you never be closed in an amber cage  
> with an amber lock and key  
> May you roar and sing beneath the sun  
> In the shade of the upas-tree.  
> -SJ Tucker “Manticore’s Lullabye”
> 
> Like "Prelude: The Rest of The Night Before Dorne" (http://archiveofourown.org/works/1982076/chapters/5355122) , inspired by this SJ Tucker song which is about a completely different book, but is still beautiful.
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihDdgNSYQ74
> 
> Listen to this. It is beautiful and one of my favorite songs of all time.
> 
> NB: The book is _The Orphan's Tales_by Cat Valente. Also beautiful.


	56. Squire (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Jaime gets a squire.
> 
> Sansa gets a surprise.
> 
> Bath.

Ankle-chained Sansa lies on her cushion,blinking softly, puzzled, bare beneath one of her Ser’s shirts. Ser slipped her out of bed and draped her in it at dawn, the sky still streaked with gold and red.  
“Rest.” he’d whispered, tying the front cord into a pert bow (because she’s Ser Jaime’s little girl even snug in his own shirt.) “Close your pretty eyes. Stay warm.” He’d locked her chain and left her a blanket beside her cushion before he closed the door quietly.

She hasn’t had time to be cold before she’s asleep again, curled up in the pale cream of his shirt, a spill of white on her scarlet cushion as the sun rises.

Later, Sansa’s wakened by a nip at her neck, a growl in her ear, insistent butting at her shoulder when she tries to nuzzle back to sleep. She inhales musky honey and spices, grass, sweat and-- “Someone’s lazy today.” Her eyes blink open to see her Ser, spun gold hair in damp spikes and curls, his ivory shirt soaked with sweat, a scrape on his shoulder, his breastplate and greaves still on. 

“You’ve left these on. Daydreaming again, aren’t you?” Her Ser’s hands are already smoothly unlocking her ankle chain and freeing her wrists until she’s kneeling at his boots, leaning forward unasked to kiss them, not minding the taste of grass over the leather of each black toe, her Ser purring as she licks, slides up to tongue the metal of his greaves, pink tip tracing the dirt in each pressed curve, savoring the metal. His hand twists in a fistful of her garnet hair, hard.

Ser Jaime tugs her hair up, lifting her to look into the slow burning green fire of his eyes. “You’re supposed to be taking these off me, not licking them. “ He growls. “One might think you enjoyed this.” Sansa looks concerned but scrambles around the back to work on the buckles, though she’s never removed his armor before.

“Quickly.” her Ser growls as her fingers fumble with the clasps and buckles. (Were she to look up, she’d see he’s drumming his fingers on his arm in mock impatience, trying to look stern--his golden brow’s arched in amusement, mirroring Cersei’s for a moment.) “Did you pay no attention when they showed you this?” A wicked grin crosses his face, his smile and teeth sharp as fangs.  
“If you don’t do it properly, I’ll take your boots. You’ll do all your chores in common shoes. Everyone will stare, you know. And you’ll remember. “

Ser Jaime leans down and growls. “Hear that? You’ll have to earn them back. I’ve taken boots before. “ He chuckles. “No squire forgets that.”

He’s rewarded with a squeal and sees her shiver as she lays out one greave, then unbuckles the next. It’s a delight to feel her fingers tremble as she undoes him, lays them out as carefully as she can, in her chains, his shirt floating up for a moment to show the curve of her milky thigh, the shape of her breasts visible through the thin fabric.  
(With each motion, he can smell the salt, fluid musk of her arousal--with her fingers and quivering, it’s a dish to be savored. He allows himself a moment to be a beast, lick his lips as she arranges the greaves, fingers trembling. As she twists, the light fabric of the shirt flies up, showing pale thigh, the red leaves of bite marks.)

Ser Jaime considers that he should put her in his shirts more often. He chuckles, bending down to let her reach the back of his breastplate. “Be quick about it. I’m sweaty under here. Very dirty.” He drops his tone to a whisper. “Have a few scratches too--not going to faint at the sight of blood are you? You’d best get used to it.”

Sansa’s eyes are huge-her nostrils flaring at the ferociously male, dangerous scent of her Ser after he’s been fighting, the tang of metal and blood. She groans, feels her cunt drip slowly on to her thighs. Sansa tries to stop it, to hold them together which only pulses more heat through her body. Then her fingers slip and worst-the breastplate with its chased gold lion slips to the floor, onto the rug. 

Sansa’s eyes are like saucers, her mouth frozen in horror. Her Ser turns, staring, eyes boring into her. 

“Well.” Quickly Ser Jaime snatches her face in his hand, leans to hiss in her ear. 

“Clumsy, too. Is there something more important on your mind?”

He whispers, honeyed, low, menacing.

“Boy.” 

Sansa feels herself drop within, slides to her knees even as she feels him press her down till there’s nothing in her line of sight but the bulge in his breeches.

(Her mouth, her traitorous mouth waters.)

“If your fingers are so clumsy, perhaps your lips are skilled.” Her Ser grinds into her face, ripping at the laces to free himself, her nostrils full of the scent of his musk and sweat, the dark pleasure of him. “Slut.” he purrs. “You’ll know how to take care of me with that sweet mouth.” he growls. “Pretty as a girl aren’t you?” With one thrust he’s in her, Sansa’s eyes watering, gagging as he slides in his black gloved hand on the back of her head. “Nice and wet for me, boy. I want a good slide--smooth and sweet. Like a good sheath.” He laughs.

Sansa groans, breathing through her nose, letting Ser slide into her throat, taking him up to the stones, licking and tonguing, tasting salt the first drops at the head of his cock, covering her teeth with her lips, slurping and licking. Her cunt drips at the taste, the feel of his cock sliding in and out of her mouth. Strings of spit hang like jewels from her lips, snapping to gleam in her red hair as he thrusts hard, brutal.

As he slides, her Ser growls softly. “Such a lovely throat for me to fuck. Let’s see how tight we can get it-whore of a squire.” He puts his hand on her throat, squeezes, rewarded with a frenzy of sucking and licking, happy squirming. “It’s all right--I didn’t take you for me so we could talk.”

He snarls with pleasure, seeing the front of his own shirt slick with Sansa’s spit, showing the curve of her chest, dripping onto her hard nipples, watching her lave and work him furiously. “That’s right, my pretty little cocksucker.” Ser Jaime squeezes his fingers watching his girl struggle and lick, see her dripping onto the floor as she takes him. 

(she loves this too)

Sansa’s lips drip below her chest already she’s so wet, her blue eyes watering, almost choking, not wanting to stop tasting him, having her Ser fuck her. Ser Jaime grits his teeth, she’s so beautiful with his hand on her throat her mouth stuffed with his cock, parrying each thrust, her breath gasping as he tightens his hand, hearing her cough and squeal.

Sansa’s dizzy with excitement, if she could she’d swallow him, drain him dry, her face pressed into her Ser’s crotch, his stones rubbing against her lips, sweaty. dark, her hunger furious, her lips wet as rain as she licks and sucks, forms her mouth to a cunt so he can ram into her just as he likes

(the way he makes her cough, she moans in joy around his throat, his, his to fuck, rocking her head the way he likes, looking up tears running down her face,mixed with the froth of her spit, dizzied, coughing, her throat buzzing around his cock, harder to breathe until she coughs harder, harder...

“Not tight enough, slut. How do you expect me to feel anything that way? You know what I have to have. Tight. Hard.” He growls, grinding.  
“You know what I need after I fight, boy.  
A. Good. Hard. Fuck.”  
Ser Jaime snarls, yanking her up by her hair.

“You’re giving it up for me today. Not waiting for you any longer, let’s see if your lord father’s sent me something I can actually use.” Sansa’s bent over the table, her legs spread as Ser Jaime flips up the white cloth, runs his gloved hand over her rounded ass. Sansa feels her Ser pulling her cheeks apart as she blushes.

“This. Now this is something I can use. You’re something I can use. Aren’t you?” Ser Jaime bites at her earlobe, worrying to makes her howl with joy, his cock pressed hard against her, thrusting between her cheeks. “You want this. You want your Ser’s cock in you, making you scream, splitting you open.” He snarls in her ear. “Sheathing me tight. So tight...”--he hisses into her ear, tugs her hair so hard it makes her eyes water again--”I’m going to spill my seed into your tender little guts. Don’t worry. “ Ser laughs. “I’ve had virgins before.”  
His smile is sharp, cruel, so sweet and sharp it hurts.  
“They’ve all screamed like little brides. Even a tiny bit of maiden’s blood sometimes--but you like that. “  
He purrs. “Makes it slicker, little cunt.” 

Sansa groans from deep inside her, frenzied with want, rubbing against him, feeling the first slick drops weeping from his cock on her smooth skin. He growls. “Lie still-open that whoring mouth of yours, boy.”

Ser Jaime slides his gloved fingers into her mouth moving them back and forth. “Suck.” he purrs. “The wetter you get them, the nicer it’s going to be for you, whore.”  
He slides them around her soft pink bud, Sansa quivering and gasping with each touch, pushing back so they slide in. “Mmmm. Eager. Some little cunt of a squire wants me to take that tight little hole. Saved it for me, didn’t you?” Ser Jaime laughs, tearing the shirt apart, exposing her back. “Pink and pretty.Mmm. Wonder if you taste sweet too?” Before Sansa can even think, she feels her cheeks spread open, something soft, slick, impossibly wonderful and she moans in joy, clenching

(it’s her Ser’s tongue inside her like that, his tongue, tasting her all she can do is howl and moan, squealing at it, working her hips back,soaking the table, oh he’s fucking her with his tongue, his tongue and she can barely take the pleasure till it’s suddenly gone.)

Sansa lifts her head, feeling him lean in, crush her lips in a kiss, fucking her mouth with his tongue too, dark and shameful and wonderful, her tongue twisting back at his, savoring, in tears so overwhelmed, it feels so good, so good.

Her Ser smiles, licking his lips slowly, savagely. “Yes-you are sweet. Lucky me. Lucky you. You’re going to taste how sweet I am--after you cry for me, prettiest boy.” Ser growls, eyes green and frenzied.  
“After I make you my little wife. For good.”

One hand on her back, Sansa can feel him reach, feels him pour oil along the crack of her ass, work his fingers back in slowly, then jerking them back out for a yelp.

“You’re going to love it, pretty bitch.” Ser Jaime bites at her neck making her arch and yowl, pushing her hard into the table, pressing her down, his cock rubbing against her ass, brazenly rubbing in the slick crevasse between her cheeks.

“You’ve rubbed yourself raw thinking of your Ser’s cock”--she hears him gasp, growl, feels the head of his cock press against her asshole, feels her muscle flutter at it, hears him snarl “...my thick hard cock all the way inside you. You’ll drip with my seed for days, my squire, my dirty whore”. Sansa whimpers.  
Yessss.” Ser growls, Sansa sobbing, dripping onto the table, feeling the oil run down her legs, mixing with the juices from her cunt. “yesyesyesSer” she moans only able to babble, lips bubbling with spit, feeling him press against her, demanding, insistent on fucking.  
“Push back,slut. My slut.” her Ser orders, pressing hard at her and she does, like she’s practiced.

The first push burns is starry and sharp and she does squeal, her Ser shoving his black glove into her mouth.  
“No screams. You don’t want the others jealous. Not everyone gets a Lannister cock to break that sweet little cherry.” Sansa screams around the leather, feeling her cunt pour as she rocks her hips, feels her Ser sink into her hard and deep. She never knew she could open like this, take him deep, burn so brightly, hotly, be taken like this and it’s wonderful. Sansa can’t help but sigh in pleasure around her mouthful of leather.

“So good, so good.” Ser moans, reaching under the ruins of his own shirt to pinch her nipples , play with her breasts, smear them with his oiled fingers as he fucks hard, mercilessly. “Mine. Mine. Your pretty, tight little ass is mine, sweetling. For always.”

Sansa arches her back up, her shoulder to meet his teeth as he sinks them into her flesh, fucking hard, sharp, hot, sweet, so sweet. Ser’s hand’s at her pearl, letting her grind, his stones slapping against her hole as her howls turn to moans of pleasure, feeling the crackle, the heat build inside her.

“Ser. “she cries out, “Ser, Ser .” It’s lightning up her spine so hot and furious he’s splitting her and she’s taking it. All she can do is push back with joy, any hurt is something else now something wonderful. She gasps, moans, squeals, loving her master fucking her, what she wanted but didn’t know to ask for, perfect.

Ser Jaime fucks deep, rough--the way she’s squeezing is driving him mad, so tight and to see her wriggling on his cock, pinned and joyful he’s biting inside his own cheek not to come yet, tasting his blood.

“Rub, little bitch.” he snarls. “Enjoy it. Next time.” Ser gasps, so close himself “we’ll get you to do this with just spit, open up like my own sweet little cunt, mine to use my filthy, darling boy, mine” snarling in her ear “mine, my dirty little girl who loves taking it up her ass like the lowest whore, slut, my slut, my whore....”

Sansa screams, feeling her cunt pour and pour, wet like she’s spilling out all the water in her body hearing her Ser roar “Mine”, biting down into her shoulder, worrying at it, a shriek of joy and pain that’s her’s, three hard fucks inside her and squirts of hot wetness where she never even dreamed she could feel it. 

“Ser’s inside me where I can’t even reach- that’s his too.” With that thought, Sansa shakes, comes hard, furiously clenching at his cock again, 

Ser shudders on top of her, Sansa comes again, sticky, wet, defiled and joyful, her eyes closed in bliss, her Ser’s hand gripping hers, clinging together, his body pressed to hers, his cheek on her shoulder, both of them breathing hard. She can feel Ser trembling, rubs against him, reluctantly feels him slide out, roughly wiping his slick cock along her back as she growls. Both somehow stumble to the bed, where he pulls her to him.

“Sweetest, very sweetest boy. My sweetest of all girls.” Ser Jaime looks at her, eyes deep emerald,smiling, Sansa reaching up to kiss him, wiping away the hair stuck to her face with spit and tears, feeling a quiver deep inside her as she comes again, last tiny drops of liquid sliding down her thighs. Her Ser strokes her hair, tangling his fingers in the ruby strands. “My cub. My precious little cub. all mine.” “Ser.” she whispers. “Master.” “Yessss.” he purrs, butting his head against hers, both of them rubbing their heads together taking in each other’s breath till all is quiet and sweet, Sansa and her Ser dozing softly, sticky, pleased.  
“You’re my squire here.” he mumbles. “Not downstairs.” “Mmm.” Sansa sighs, blue eyes half-closed in pleasure.

Ser Jaime raises on his side, resting his head on his hand. “Their virtue is safe, if you’re concerned.” he grins cockily. Sansa giggles, rolling out of the wreckage of his shirt, wiping her damp red hair out of her face.  
“Really?”She grins. Her Ser sighs dramatically, his emerald eyes twinkling. “Sadly, little love, none of them are as pretty as you. Just as well-I’d never get anything done. You’d lose yourself a Ser--never get fucked properly at all. Wouldn’t that be a shame?”  
He nips at her ear as she purrs. “Besides--I have a twin brother who won’t be able to get enough of you either. “ Sansa shivers, her azure eyes twinkling wickedly. “Thought you’d like that. Not that you have a choice, cub.” He grins. Sansa nuzzles his chest. “Bite anything-- you clean that puddle on the floor with your tongue.” her Ser mutters. “No, you won’t like it.” Sansa lays her head down gently, her sapphire eyes sparkling.

“And -” he murmurs. “I couldn’t wait to lure you to the stables either. Ah well. You’re going to be very well fucked, little cub. Often. But you like that. My girl.” Sansa nods,whispering, “My Ser.” her eyes closing on his chest, falling asleep, her Ser’s hand clasped around her wrist.

Later, they’ll bathe--there will be splashes,Sansa’s fingers gripping the side of the tub tight, growls of pleasure then the scent of sage and honey. Later she’ll eat ravenously and fall asleep at her Ser’s feet, his hand on her leash--and later there will be other things. For now, lion and cub curl and drowse in the morning sunlight, the sounds of the keep like the sea, breaking like waves in their sweet, dirty, glorious, golden dreams.


	57. Surprise  (SerxLadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei gets a treat.
> 
> Ser Jaime wastes paint.
> 
> Sansa learns manners.

Cersei raises a golden brow as she lifts the violet silken wrapping. “This is something new. I’ve never had one.” She runs her fingernail along Ser Jaime’s cheek, feeling the smile form under her fingertips. “Neither have I.” her brother purrs, spun gold hair gleaming in the candlelight, running his lips along her neck, flicking his tongue in just the way she likes. Cersei growls in delight, rubbing hard against him, then turns to look at her surprise.  
The girl’s in scraps of ruby silk, redolent of cheap perfume, eyes blackened, lips stained red, “WHORE” scrawled bloody across her chest in Cersei’s best rouge, a sweetly wicked smile on her pale, tender face.  
The Queen is briefly annoyed that her brother would use such copious amounts of her rouge, but she can’t stay upset once she sees the bells on the girl’s ankles and wrists, braided into her hair.  
Ser Jaime tugs on a scarlet strand, grinning sharply, baring his teeth. “Think of the pretty noises she’ll make when she’s being fucked.” Cersei meets his eyes and grins, gliding over to Sansa’s other side, to wrap the rest of her girl’s hair around her hand, pull hard till she gasps.  
Cersei growls. “The bells will sound lovely too. Don’t you think?” Together, they grin, eyeing their feast. Emerald eyes sparkle as the golden twins drag their harlot across the floor, the Queen pausing for a moment.  
“Remember your manners, slut.” she snarls, then curves her cruel, sweet lips into a smile. “Curtsey before you get into bed.” Their whore nods, barely able to keep back a smile, her sapphire eyes gleaming as her lovers pull her away, bouncing her on the floor behind them like their favorite toy.  
If that’s so, Sansa thinks she’s the luckiest toy in all of the known world. She bites back a grin of her own, awaiting her fate-- and remembering that she must curtsey.


	58. Gold Takes Silver (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wakes  
> The Queen is gallant.  
> Straight on till morning.

Cersei wakes, a cold spot at her side.  
She parts the curtains, steps out of bed. Sansa’s on a chair, hugging her knees to her chest, looking into the dark. “Little dove.” whispers Cersei, “little dove.” Her girl looks up, tear tracks glazed on her face, Cersei suddenly, angry at how the moonlight silvers them brighter than the gold chain round her girl’s neck.  
“I was so cold.” whispers Sansa. “So cold.”  
Cersei presses her head into Sansa’s shoulder. “It’s all right. “  
She strokes her girl’s hair, caresses her cheek, tugs softly at the chain. “You are here.You’re mine.” she whispers. “And we will never let you go.”  
The Queen leans forward, her golden hair brushing Sansa’s bare face and shoulders, so luminous it’s a tiny victory.  
And it makes Sansa smile-a fine prize.  
“Here, sweetling.” her Lady whispers. “Come back to bed.Be warm with me.”  
Sansa curls in bed as Cersei gets something from the clothespress, wraps it around her little girl. Cersei watches the smile blossom across Sansa’s ivory face as she folds and tucks.  
Sansa snuggles into her Lady’s scarlet cloak, feels three squeezes on her hand. “Better?” Cersei whispers.  
Sansa nods, her eyelids already fluttering.  
The most feared woman in Westeros hums a song, holds her girl close to her heart until Sansa’s blue eyes close, her breath comes slow and sweet.  
Cersei nestles her golden head to Sansa’s ruby one, finally sleeps, her body the warmth and brightness of the sun to her sleeping cub, her claws and teeth at the ready to shred any other nightmare that haunts her girl’s sleep-till dawn, she’ll conquer the icy, hateful moon for her cub, be brave for her. As she falls into her own dreams, Cersei thinks it a sweetness as heavy as the red cloak on Sansa’s shoulders and one infinitely warmer, more beautiful.


	59. Breakfast (LadyxSerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunlight.
> 
> A morning feast.
> 
> Breakfast.

Cersei sits, gleaming in the morning light at her breakfast table,lounging in her ruby silk robe, watching her little cub bring a tray; fruit, bread studded with hazelnuts and candied orange peel, grapes, wedges of salty, silky cheese, thin slices of ham with figs. 

Sansa doesn’t have to bring breakfast but Cersei loves to watch her; the way she easily sets out dish after dish, unfolds the cloth for her Queen’s fingers, pours her morning mix of watered hippocras into her goblet, elegantly and sweetly with her chained hands finishing with kneeling and a “Good morning, your Grace.” with a bright, joyous smile. 

Cersei won’t tell her this, but the cheery good morning is her favorite part.  
She reaches out her hand with its heavy carnelian ring on her index finger and strokes her cub’s hair, smoothing it, feeling her respond, rubbing her garnet head against the Queen’s soft hand.  
“Such a good girl.” whispers Cersei, suddenly feeling a fierce rage at the thought of someone trying to steal her darling, she’d kill them with her bare hands and fuck her girl over their corpses, perhaps this is how Jaime feels and if so, they’re more alike than ever--  
but for right now it’s the golden light of morning and there’s nothing to fear, only the softness of Sansa’s breath on her hands. “Sweetling.” purrs Cersei, lifting her finger under Sansa’s chin, Sansa looking up at her.

As she does in the morning, Cersei gives her a sip of wine, a nibble of something dainty. Today, Sansa gets her sip of wine and Cersei pauses, her green eyes gleaming.  
“I heard a certain little girl had quite the adventure the other night.” She can practically feel the heat of Sansa’s blood rushing to her face. Cersei arches a brow and smiles sharply at the chained girl at her feet. Cersei looks off as if thinking.

“Or maybe...a certain boy. With a very sweet mouth. All open and wet for men in a public alley. What will people say?” She’s rewarded with a groan and a blush. Cersei smiles, shifting in her chair, her robe opening to reveal one shapely leg. 

“One might think that this little creature was a degenerate, incorrigible little one. Never satisfied.” Cersei pulls Sansa closer looking into her eyes, breathing softly as she whispers

“I wonder if this little creature is still hungry.”

Sansa whimpers, her eyes azure, almost glowing with excitement. 

“Well. It would be so cruel to leave such a creature unsatisfied, wouldn’t it?” Cersei smiles sharply, watching Sansa blush and mewl under her breath. Cersei can tell her girl’s mouth already waters.

“Someone has a mouth that needs filling. Isn’t that true?”

Sansa nods, blushing murmuring “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Such an insatiable little thing.”

Cersei whispers slower, deeper. 

“A sweet little mouth needs fucking. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” whispers Sansa, head bent, body trembling.

Then I think we should satisfy it. If only for a moment.”

Cersei unties her robe and Sansa’s eyes do grow wide, her mouth open.

The Queen enjoys this, the look of puzzlement, delight and furious hunger and lust and fear. Oh her girl’s eyes could make her smile forever. She reaches between her legs and starts to rub, working her elegant, agile fingers, making Sansa’s mouth water.

“So, my greedy dove. Still hungry?”

Cersei’s fingers stroke an exquisitely carved ivory cock; pale and hard, twined with veins carved delicately as vines. She grips along the bottom, sliding it into her hand.  
(It feels perfect, part of her own body. the leather straps holding it warm to her skin, hers, her cock, no one else’s.) She grips, sliding it along her palm with a practiced motion.

“Feels wonderful.” Cersei looks at Sansa, enjoying a long, slow leisurely stroke as her girl gazes.  
Cersei stares, growls.” It feels so much nicer with a pretty mouth around it.” There aren’t words to describe how she feels like this, Sansa kneeling before her with her mouth open in hunger and awe, Cersei slowly fucking her own beautiful, golden-ringed hand, seeing the ivory slide between her fingers.

Delicious. Whole. 

She brushes Sansa’s lips with the head.

“You know what to do.” Cersei smiles as Sansa opens her mouth, running her tongue around the head, right to the sensitive line on the underside, tongue flick to the tip, lapping for the first few unseen drops. Cersei groans in pleasure.

“Exactly what I like. Clever, clever little dove.” Sansa licks along the underside looking right up into Cersei’s emerald eyes. Cersei’s slightly afraid that with a look like that and such a lovely mouth were she a man, she’d spend in an instant. She’s learned better.  
Cersei leans back in her chair, thrusting her hips to Sansa’s mouth. The Queen’s rewarded with soft wet licks and lips working sweetly. “Yes, I feel that pretty tongue. “ She smiles, sliding her cock in past Sansa’s lips, watching her take it. “Good girl. Such a good little slut.. “ She grins.”Pretty, pretty cocksucker.” 

Sansa moans. “Oh, you like that. On your knees in the street, cock jammed into your slick little throat-such a good little whore. “ She slips in an extra half inch watching Sansa open, slick the ivory with her spittle, watching it drip in liquid jewels into her russet hair as she moans, arches forward to suck, burying her head in her Lady’s lap, laving her cock up and down with her pink tongue, sucking and licking like it’s a delicious sweet.

Cersei groans in pleasure, moving her hips forward so that Sansa can grip them. “Good girl.” rewarded with a moan, Cersei pulling out all the way to see her cock wet with Sansa’s spit, her girl’s face wet, tongue reaching out for another taste.  
The Queen chuckles warmly, enjoying the tease, her little dove’s hunger.  
“You’re treating my cock so well.” She laughs warmly, enjoying her girl’s red face, her savage hunger for her Lady’s cock. “Greedy, greedy girl. All the places I can put this in you--your poor little cunt must feel so empty right now. “  
Sansa wriggles, moaning. Cersei lowers her voice. 

“And your tight, sweet little ass. My girl’s learned to love that hasn’t she?” The vibrations of a squeal around her cock make Cersei’s body tremble in bliss. Somebody’s going to get buggered. All filled up. Like a slave.”

Cersei purrs. “I so like it when you lick all the way around so I can see your pretty tongue working. You love every inch of your Lady’s cock, don’t you, little dove?”.” Sansa starts, Cersei puts a finger to her lips. “Your mouth’s full.” Her mouth quirks up in amusement. “Don’t talk. It’s rude.” Sansa doesn’t but gazes into her Lady’s eyes, taking her cock deeper and Cersei nearly spills at that, those perfect blue eyes looking up at her, that sweet pink mouth stuffed and dripping. Hers. Cersei strokes Sansa’s hair. “Mmm.” She purrs. “Sweet, dirty little cocksucker. Such a mouth and it’s ours.”

Cersei winks as she notices Ser Jaime slip in quietly. He’d been planning for breakfast, but this is better. He pauses for a moment to take in the loveliness--Cersei leaning back in pleasure, Sansa’s mouth sheathing his lover’s beautiful cock, licking and sucking with deep love and hunger. He can’t help but think what a good girl she is--and the way she’s taking Cersei is driving him deliciously mad. 

(He’s tasted Cersei’s cock as she has tasted his-but it’s a rare pleasure to see someone else treat it with as much lust, as much hunger and luscious greed. Cersei catches his eye, nods, smiles and he quietly walks over.)

“Up-hands and knees, slutty girl.” Cersei grins, adjusting herself. “Take me nice and deep and maybe you’ll get a nice surprise. Cersei ruffles Sansa’s hair, tugging it to pull Sansa’s mouth onto her cock. “For being such a naughty girl.” 

The ecstatic look in Sansa’s eyes as she feels Ser Jaime’s hands on her hips, his hard cock at the entrance to her cunt is so delicious that Cersei trembles, hot pulses of pleasure through her whole body -then looking into Ser Jaime’s emerald eyes. both thrusting into their girl on the same beat the pleasure is so intense there are no words for it.  
“Perfect.” they whisper as one, watching, pulling back, thrusting in--and Cersei can hardly breathe from this delight, but follows her brother’s. Soon they’re plunging into their girl deep, thrusting hard, Sansa tilting her head to take her Lady deep, a luscious, wet slide inside her and Cersei can feel the pulsing sweetness of her girl around her cock.  
Cersei reaches to touch Jaime’s hand as he reaches forward for hers. They clench fingers--and of course, Sansa’s stayed in place, warm and wet for them.

“Good girl.” they both whisper.“Such a good girl.”  
Sansa’s whimpers and gasps are a delicious reward--and it is delicious to see her overwhelmed, reduced to pretty flesh for them to enjoy. Cersei can tell she’s on the brink--but not yet.

“Is it nice, little dove?” Cersei purrs, trying not to cry out. “Having both of us in you, dirty girl?” 

Sansa sobs in pleasure around Cersei’s cock. “No speaking. Suck.” 

Cersei and Jaime look at each other, rock their hips in unison, Cersei pulling Sansa’s head onto her cock. “Mmm. Oh little cub, we’re going to make your throat bleed, you’re so good.”  
Cersei sighs in bliss as she thrusts into her good girl’s mouth, feeling the pulse of her cock through her body, like it’s flesh. She never would have believed that she could feel from an ivory cock but she does and it is glorious. She smiles, panting, growling, rocking her hips.

“You’ll never want for cock to fill your mouth.” Cersei purrs to Sansa. “Not while we live, little dove.” Cersei looks into her girls eyes and fucks her face hard, watching her gag, her eyes water while they sparkle with hunger, spit dripping down her face like strings of jewels.  
Cersei groans from a places so deep inside it almost hurts, slides her cock out then in, her girl parrying. “Sansa.” she groans almost in pain from this desire.  
Cersei fucks as Jaime does, both of them working in unison breathing slow and deep, fucking their girl, binding her to them.

Sansa is overwhelmed--her body’s on fire, her cunt is sweet and hot and gripping at her Ser, her mouth is full, her nostrils full of the scent of her lovers’ spice and honey, the hot musks and sweetness of their arousal together and she wants to scream but can only do it around her Lady’s cock as it slides into her throat.  
“My girl. My sweet, delicious cocksucker,” Cersei gasps, groaning, half ready to sob as Sansa takes her to the hilt. Jaime groaning as he fucks, Sansa’s cunt gripping at him. “Good girl,” he grows. “Ser’s so proud of his little whore.” as he slams into her, Cersei fucking harder, fistful of garnet hair tangled around her rings and hand to pull Sansa deeper onto her. Sansa licks and moans, fluid pouring down her face now unashamed and Cersei pushes deep and oh, her girl’s throat...

“Told you she loves cock so much she chokes on it.” groans Ser Jaime (himself gritting his teeth to make it last longer, hold on a few more minutes.)

“Yes.” Cersei grins, trying to hide her gasps as she speaks. “If we ever need to, we’ll take her down to the docks and she’ll make us the richer. Won’t you, sweetling?” 

Sansa howls in pleasure, soft bubbling slick noises, Ser Jaime groaning as her cunt tightens around him “My prettiest bitch.” he whispers nuzzling against Sansa’s shoulder. “Daddy’s so proud.”

Cersei can’t hold back but fucks and fucks and gods her girl is meeting every stroke, her sweet face slick with tears and spit, dripping down her chin and onto her breasts and hair

(oh my greedy love, my hungry little sister)

Cersei thrusts hard pulling Sansa’s hair crying out so loud she doesn’t care if anyone hears her she’s fucking her girl and it’s right

and Cersei comes shaking, then again and again,her body trembling, flushed pink and white, her robe slipped from her white shoulders, her hair a cloud of golden lightning, roaring in pleasure.  
With that Ser Jaime roars, leaning forward into Sansa’s shoulder biting, growling, “mine, mine.” his seed pouring into her and Sansa screams around both of them sobbing from pleasure and just when she thinks she can’t her Ser reaches her pearl and thrusts again hitting the rough patch she loves--

and she screams and cries, thrashing, fluid pouring down her legs to slick the floor, leaving a puddle on the beautiful rug. Sansa howls again as another shakes her to the core and Ser and Lady both whisper encouragingly “Yes, as many times as you want.” It’s on the fourth that she finally collapses, shudders, her lips still trying to cling to her Lady’s cock.

Cersei pulls out her cock. slides down to her girl for a kiss. Her Lady trembles with her, their bodies shake and Sansa sated, collapses into her lovers’ arms.

As Sansa gasps for breath, Ser Jaime slips his fingers drenched in seed and her fluids over her parted pink lips so she can suck them clean. The little cub licks greedily, getting the last bits at the corners of her smile. 

Sansa realizes, as she’s lying with her head in her Lady’s lap. that her Ser is doing the same to her Lady, both of them kissing and tonguing his seed between them eyes open, gleaming as they moan into each others’ mouths, still hungry even as they glut themselves on each other.  
Cersei closes her eyes in one last glorious shudder as Ser Jaime bites at her lips, Sansa holds her close.

No words, but they all slide onto the floor, Cersei and Jaime cradling each other, Sansa between them a gentle nuzzle at her Lady’s cock, a turn to delicately kiss her Ser’s cock, finally curling between them, sticky-lipped and sweet. 

“Best girl.” purrs Cersei. “Little dove, perfect little sister.” Sansa sighs sweetly, purrs, them moves her hips, cries out and quivers in one last delight. Ser Jaime growls, laughing. “Naughty cub. You’ll have to clean that up.” He strokes her hair as her Lady whispers. “Good cub. Our best girl.” 

The breakfast is just as delicious later after they’ve slept, let the breeze through the window stroke their warm bodies, the sunlight wake them to hunger; the figs and meat as sweet and salty, the fruit as ripe, Sansa eating bite by bite, sip by sip, all of them purring in the morning sunbeams, no need to speak.Not yet, not yet.


	60. Glimpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An empty room.
> 
> A full girl.
> 
> Joy.

The room is a still life of broken green switches, nibbled fruit, scarlet drops of wine on the damask tablecloth, ruby silk robe like a shed skin, spit-shined black boots resting by the heavy canopied bed. Sounds drift in from the other room; warm laughter, splashes, pleased growls. The humid air swirls with honey and spices, musk, the salty, dark scents of blood, kisses, fucking.

Sansa picks up her soaps and oils, since there’s a bath and she has a job to do, one that she loves. She stretches, knowing the hot water will sting her skin, but she doesn’t mind. As she shakes out her garnet hair she passes the most glorious indulgence of the lavish room, a full looking-glass. Sansa pauses, slowly slides her robe from her shoulders.The girl in the glass winks back, blue and bright. Sansa leisurely admires the red cross-hatches, switch marks, scarlet petals of bites and bruises over her milky skin. The mirror girl grins in delight, then her smile softens, swells--one shoulder’s dagger-scratched _SJL_ , one _CL_.

In crimson between Sansa’s shoulder blades:

 _beloved_.

Sansa’s heart swells. It’s her eyes that sting a little bit but she knows joy when she feels it. The little cub retires to the bath, ready to serve back that joy in clean skin, perfectly washed hair and kisses, in addition to anything else her lions might want. She steps out; soon there’s a snarl, a laugh like bells, a splash. 

The room is quiet; there will be growls and purrs and sweet breath of sleep again. Soon.


	61. Sustain (SerxLady)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beauty of hunger.
> 
> Savagery.
> 
> Home.

“Anklegrabber.” whispers Cersei into her brother’s ear, hot into the sweet pink shell just like hers but for a scar here or there (and she loves them, loves him). Her long fingers stroke and scratch at the back of his neck at the base of his spun gold hair, feeling him purr and arch under her hand, delicious.

The fire shakes bright coins of light upon the twins, lying before it naked and unashamed. Cersei rolls to Ser Jaime’s back and nips at his neck, adding bites to her scratches, hearing him growl, twist his head to jape with her. 

“I couldn’t resist you from the moment you existed.” His emerald eyes sparkle. “Seems you enjoy having your ankles grabbed, sweet sister.” Ser Jaime’s eyes sweep along the curves of his sister’s shining body to her legs, down to where a gold anklet encircles each one.  
(Cersei wore them, every moment of her life from when he gave them to her. In the dark of night, the depths of sorrow, she would twist her ankle to feel the gold around it, his hand touching her even when he stood guard outside. )

_I will never leave you my love._

No one ever noticed them and here they are now; Ser Jaime’s eyes widened with joy when she showed him the clasp melted together, on her for life now. When she lies in the Hall of Heroes, his gold, his hands will encircle her bones. For always.

But for now, there’s skin and flesh and joy. And they’re alive.

Ser Jaime rolls onto his side to admire his lover, reaching out his hand to caress her face, stroke the elegant angle of her cheekbones, sweep along the curve of her neck. “Cry out tonight, my love. All you want.” Her eyes are wildfire green and that fierce burning in her

_(she consumes the fire now. it does not consume her.)_

gives him a warmth the likes of which he has never known. 

“My love.” he growls. “My sweet sister.”

Cersei’s smile is wicked and delicious and he loves it, loves the sharp beauty of her white teeth as she’s gasping and moaning under him, begging him to fuck her harder, bruise her inside, take all of her. 

“I know what I want tonight.” Her smile is sharp, hot, sweet.

“I live to please you, my Queen.” he grins, his heart burning hot in his chest, fear and joy and pleasure all at once. 

“Good.” Cersei murmurs, the firelight gilding the curves of her breasts, her hair falling like the waves of a golden sea. She kisses him hard, pulling him up, wrapping her long legs around him till they’re sitting and kissing deeply, drunk on the sweetness of each other.  
She whispers in his ear and Ser Jaime smiles.

Her hands on his back, tracing each scar with oil, the rich fruited oil from Dorne that smells of sunlight and trees. He sighs with the pleasure of the warm oil and her hands on him. “My love.” he purrs, content as a cat, lifting himself to let her touch his nipples, pinch and twist just as he likes, feeling her hand move along his belly to his cock, hard, stiffening harder at the touch of her oiled fingers, “So good.” Cersei sighs, stroking in a perfect rhythm, just the way he fucks his own hand when he’s alone and Ser Jaime, her brother, her lover, groans loudly in pleasure, the first drops of his seed slicking her hands. “Yes.” he purrs.”Yes, yes. my love.”

Cersei’s fingers stroke between his cheeks, pressing softly at the pink star between them, pressing softly, feeling him push back at her, clutch at her fingers hard as a bruising, stolen kiss.

_(they can make all the noise they want now.)_

Her cheek resting on his lower back, her hair spilled over his skin and her shoulders, Cersei slides her fingers in and out, slowly, gently, feeling him open for her.

(“No part of you is ugly, none would ever be.” she’d whispered fiercely to him, the first time she came to him with oil, shortly after he’d come to her the same way so he could spill his seed in her instead of on the soft curve of her belly. They both held it in secret sweetness, Ser Jaime knowing that he was inside her everywhere she went, no one the wiser, Cersei warm with pleasure, swinging her hips slightly more, emboldened by her lover’s seed deep inside her, no one able to touch her there except him, as it should be. Their bodies are no secret to each other, no space untouched, nothing ugly, nothing ever could be. )  
And so her fingers are in him, slick and sweet as he opens under her touch, thrusting back as she fucks him, his hips rising, his muscled back an arch of beauty his golden hair shaking like flame, like he throws off sparks too.

Cersei’s breath catches in her throat as she looks at him; all that golden, shining beauty hers  
_(as she is his always, as she is when he claims her, sinking into her and roaring with the splendor of it, his seed hot inside her)_

and she moans in delight, allowing herself a hip shake, a twist, something to rub her aching pearl

as she presses the tip of her ivory cock against him, rubs herself against his ass, as if stirring herself to perfect hardness. Cersei feels it through her entire body, this joy crashing against her, ringing through her like the waves that shake the base of the rock.  
She rakes her hands down his back, clawing at his skin, snarling in pleasure at the red marks she leaves, shifts to scratch at his cheek, growls back as he bites at her fingers--and she can’t resist, returns to rub at him. 

“Want you.” she groans, her pale body over his, her ivory cock rubbing her hips, rocking, rolling like a dancing girl’s, but thrusting her cock against him. Ser Jaime growls and purrs, thrusting back.

“And I want you, sweet sister.” he purrs. His voice lowers, his eyes flash like he’s throwing down a gauntlet, daring her.

“Ravage me. Fuck me. Fuck me hard like your prettiest bitch.” he growls. “Fuck me like your man, your love who wants to feel you all the way inside him where no one else will ever be. Make me scream.” He draws in a shuddering breath. “Fuck me till you scream, the way you do when I’m inside you, bruising you, making you sweet and sore, so that you remember all day,” he snarls, looking over his shoulder “so that you remember, grab me and spread yourself wide for your brother’s cock because you can’t get enough of me in your golden cunt. Fuck me that hard, my love. Fuck me.” 

Cersei growls back. “You’ll be begging for me again. Like a whore. My love.” Ser Jaime chuckles. “If you do it right I will.”

Oil poured over his golden skin, Cersei sliding her oiled cock along her palm, the air redolent with smoke, musk, their scent of honey and spices, the scent of fruit and Dornish afternoons. “Yes, yes.” Cersei can’t be gentle anymore, starts to push inside him, her face ecstatic as she grips at her lover’s hips. 

“So tight, so tight.” and suddenly she’s all the way in, her body electrified, her ivory cock sending fire to all the nerves in her body. “Jaime.” she cries in joy, sinking her fingernails into his skin, bloody half moons on his hips. “Jaime.” 

He groans low and hard like he’s in pain, but he’s not, his face shines, his body burns. squeezing tight around his lover’s cock. “Sweetling.” he moans. “My love, like that, my love, you’re home, fuck me, my love.” Sweat glazes his face as he sighs, growls, pushes his cock against her hand, cries out deep at each thrust.

Cersei wraps her hands around his hips,pushing in deep, feeling him fuck back against her, gripping her inside him, her breath warm on his skin, hot on the back of his neck. “Jaime. My love.” she thrust deep, deeper. “My love, my love.”

Jaime pants, feeling her hand reach to stroke his cock as she fucks him, thrusts into her silky, oiled fingers, growling and groaning with each breath. “You’re mine.” he growls. “Tip of your head to toes to your perfect cock, my sweet sister.” His own cock twitches. “And you’re mine.” Cersei gasps, thrusting, fucking fiercely, hard, giving him the roughness that he craves, what it takes to make his cock jump in her hand, drip with pleasure. “All mine, my brother, my lover, you’ve belonged to me since before your eyes opened, I...” she thrusts, her eyes rolling in joy, sweat shining on her body, her nipples hard against Jaime’s back, rapturous in his grip, made perfect by fucking him like he fucks her, her hair a luminous cloud as she throws her head back and screams in joy not caring if anyone hears because it’s right, it’s right...

“I love you.” Cersei growls in Jaime’s ear, feeling him arch his back in pleasure, thrust back at her, do his best to rub his cock in her warm hand-- and she is living flame, her body sunlight and fire and pure rapture as she fucks her brother, burning hotter and brighter as he growls “I love you, I love you.” Her hips work harder, faster, ramming him as he does her his words enflaming her with joy and it is alight with passion that Cersei sinks deepest into him,shaking,rubbing her pearl against the ivory---and it’s when she's gripping at his hips, her fingers sinking into her lover’s flesh that Cersei comes, roaring in pleasure, biting at her brother’s body, howling in absolute joy as he roars, filling her hand with his seed, overflowing, dripping pearl-pale down her fingers. Cersei shudders one last time, resting her head on Jaime’s sweat-slick back, tonguing at the salt of his skin. She rubs her cheek at her twin’s back, nuzzling, kissing, smiling

_(he still can’t get used to her smile, it is perfect and new every time.)_

Jaime growls as she slides out. “Hardest you could do, my sister?” he grins. Cersei fixes him with a sharp gaze, a stern word from their childhood, then smiles. “I’ll have to keep fucking you then.” she purrs “to satisfy my darling slut of a brother.” Ser Jaime laughs as he watches Cersei tip her full palm to her mouth, watching her drip his seed onto her tongue, filling her mouth. “And I’ll have to fuck you twice as hard, my whore of a Queen. So you understand.” Cersei kisses him and they slide to the ground to the furs and the carpets to curl around each other like a heart, tongues slipping his seed back and forth, savoring the kisses, bitter and salty and sweet, both sated but wanting more, always more. They drowse in the heat, wrapped around each other golden head to golden head and their dreams are filled with more sweetness than they ever dreamed possible. Cersei and Jaime murmur one word to each other and then sleep safe in each others arms, like they did after stuffing themselves on blackberries, after nightmares, for the pleasure of skin on skin, for always.

The word echoes in the corners of the room as the Lannister twins sleep. Cersei and Jaime don’t need to say it again, but they know it’s “I love you.” The fire burns low, their breasts rise and fall softly, their dreams of stalking and pouncing and a joy that burns like wildfire through their bodies, their world, their wild beating golden hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _thus I sustain my hunger_ -T. Polyphilus


	62. Sunshine (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Golden afternoons.
> 
> Memories.
> 
> All the warmth in the world.

It’s an afternoon of sunlight, pouring down like gold outside, luminous beams and coins of light over the river, the harbor, the sea, making even stone grow bright as the ruby hair that flows over Cersei’s chest, Sansa’s rich silk that Cersei loves to touch, stroke, comb and caress, always caress.

In the Queen’s bedroom it is warm as as the sweet burn of honey wine and Sansa’s half-asleep, on her Lady’s breast, purring under Cersei’s long, graceful fingers. Cersei can feel Sansa’s smile against her skin, the rumble of her purr, feel the curling and uncurling of Sansa’s toes against her own leg.

(Her little dove does this when she’s happy, when pleasure is almost too much to be contained; it’s like she stretches to hold more, glows from within.)

“Tell me about something.” Cersei whispers, leaning close to Sansa, brushing at her cub’s shoulder with her own long golden twists of hair, enough that Sansa can breathe in lavender, the musk, honey spices of her Lady’s own scent.

(she loves this, feeling drunk on her Lady, dizzied by her presence, overcome)

“A story, Your Grace?” murmurs Sansa sleepily, nuzzling her head against Cersei’s soft skin, her pale cheek against her breast.

“Something different.” Cersei murmurs, low and quiet. “Something you liked. Before. Something that made you happy.”

Sansa pauses, thinks, curls up against her Lady’s arm. Her eyes open halfway, little azure flashes as she thinks. “Lemons.” 

Cersei turns her head to hide a smile in her own golden hair. “Really, little dove? Why?”

Sansa pauses, her voice lowered. “They looked like sunshine--and they smelled wonderful. I stole one from the kitchen once and took it to bed with me. It was always so cold there--but I could hold the lemon, rub my fingers on it, smell it and it was so beautiful. So bright.” Her face turns into a slight frown. “My sister told on me and my mother scolded me because lemons were--are--dear, not the kind of thing I could keep in bed.” Sansa smiles a little. “They gave me cakes later--my nameday was always gray and cold, but I could taste the sunlight. Special.” Sansa sighs softly, a tiny shadow flickering across her face. “Nobody else ever stole lemons.”

“It’s all right.” Cersei hums in Sansa’s ear, holds her tight, rocks her close, kisses her softly on the lips till her girl’s face is bright again. “You can have all the sunshine you want. Every bit. ” Cersei smiles, her emerald eyes sparking from amusement. “And almost all the lemons. “ Sansa smiles and Cersei hooks a finger under the chain on her girl’s neck pulling Sansa forward to gaze into her sapphire eyes. “I’m selfish though. No lemons in bed.” Cersei raises an eyebrow. “With either of us.”

Sansa laughs softly. “No, Your Grace. I have other, finer treasures to have in bed with me.” She looks straight into Cersei’s eyes, grinning with delight at her own cleverness. Cersei does laugh (it still feels strange in her chest, like it’s tight, like there’s something stuck but she laughs anyway and it flows sweetly.) “I see.” Cersei nips Sansa’s neck, feeling her arch her back in pleasure, make soft, luscious moans. “Such pretty words from such a lovely girl. Does a certain little cub want to make ladies swoon in her arms?” Cersei nibbles around to Sansa’s pale shoulder hearing her gasp, pant low and soft as Cersei bites, worrying at her shoulder, leaving teeth marks, wanting to mark her, claim her.

Cersei’s fingers work along Sansa’s belly, one arm pinning her tightly, hugging her close. “Tell me.” “Only one, Your Grace.” gasps Sansa, squirming in pleasure as Cersei’s fingers brush against her reddened lips, her soft mound, flicker against her pearl. Soon Sansa’s rocking her hips, moaning in pleasure, her Lady enjoying how Sansa’s dancing on her fingers, how the tiniest brush can make her roll her hips, make her slick and dewy. 

“And who’s that?” purrs Cersei, smiling white and sharp at her cub. “Perhaps if you tell me I’ll let you--and if I like it you’ll get a treat. Hmmm? “ Cersei slips a finger inside her girl’s cunt, feeling it soft and slick, clenching tight at her, squeezing her finger just as she’s been taught. 

(such a good girl. best girl.)

Sansa gasps, her face pink and ivory, flushed with pleasure. “Please, Your Grace.” she whispers, crying out in joy as Cersei rolls her pearl between her fingertips, kissing Sansa on one cheek, then the other as Sansa lies in her arms. “You, my Lady.” Sansa gasps. “You.”

Cersei smiles, leaning over to kiss her girl full and deep, slipping her tongue into Sansa’s pink, honeyed mouth, till their tongues tangle and they’re both breathing heavily when their lips finally part. “ My sweet little dove. My cub. “ groans Cersei. “My little sister, little love.” She kisses Sansa again, nibbling at her lips just they way her girl likes it, feeling her slide, surrender to the kiss, to Cersei’s fingers fucking her softly, now harder. “Yes. Yes, sweetling. Good girl.” Cersei’s joy is furious, intoxicated with the feel of Sansa’s cunt around her fingers, gripping at her, like she’s kissing her with her inmost heart, soft and slick and tender. Slowly she curls her fingertips to the front, hears Sansa squeal in pleasure, high and sweet, presses, so far beyond words 

(oh her girl.hers.)

and Cersei thrusts and rubs, feeling her girl start to flow, rubbing her thumb over her pearl. “There you are.” croons Cersei, feeling Sansa shiver, wriggle, thrust, “fuck your greedy little cunt right back at me, good girl, nice and hard. Naughty.” whispers Cersei in a hot breath on Sansa’s flushed skin, pink and white and beautiful. “You swoon in my arms, little girl.” hissing hot and sweet, “because that’s how you like it best. And that’s how I like it best, my cub.” Sansa’s whimpering with joy eyes wide, wet with tears of pleasure, her cunt weeping moisture, so wet it’s running down Cersei’s wrist and the Queen slides in an extra finger, hearing Sansa wail in joy at being so full, so happy. Cersei’s full too, pleasure and power and the sheer beauty of her girl at the brink of rapture, spread out like red and white silk, so hungry, so happy, such a treasure.

 

Cersei knows from Sansa’s eyes she can’t speak, only work her body, only feel. “As many times as you want, little dove, as many times, nice and wet, let go that’s my little dove, that’s my sweetest girl-”

Sansa screams, flooding Cersei’s hand, her thighs, thrashing in delight, grip so tight Cersei wonders if she can even get her fingers out; so she thrusts harder, rubs her girl’s hot, rosy pearl again and again till Sansa shudders, collapses into her Lady’s arms, damp with sweat, her garnet hair in wet strands, her soft lips kissing any place on her Lady that she can reach until she’s still, Cersei stroking her hair slowly. “Mine.”whispers Cersei, “all mine.” rubbing her head against Sansa’s both of their eyes closed, breathing each other in. Eventually Sansa opens her eyes.

“Still here.” she murmurs, blinking, her long lashes fluttering. “Thank you Your Grace, thank you thank you.” and she nuzzles against her softly, both of them quiet for a moment, warm, content. “Good girl.” whispers Cersei, kissing her lightly on the lips as they lie back on the bed, half-dreaming, safe.

***

Cersei opens her eyes halfway to see Sansa looking at her adoringly, head dipped. “Please, Your Grace. May I...?” Cersei can see the hunger in her cub’s eyes, the way she’s softly moving her tongue. Cersei smiles wickedly, shimmering in the spun gold cloud of her hair. “Does my little dove have a treat she wants?” Cersei lowers her voice, husky and rich, rubs softly against Sansa’s thigh. “Something she wants to taste, perhaps.?”

“Yes.” whispers Sansa, “yes, my Lady.” dipping her head low in hope, her eyes luminously blue, bright with desire. 

“And what might that be?” purrs Cersei, softly parting her legs, watching Sansa breathe faster, part her lips.

Sansa kisses down Cersei’s chest, between her full breasts, slowly, gently, brushing her lips slowly at the curve of her Queen’s belly, pausing in adoration, looking up.

“Sunshine.” she whispers, moving her lips between her queen’s thighs and as her tongue moves, Cersei feels luminous, brilliant, tangles her fingers in her girl’s hair to hold her close--

and everything is heat and warmth and joy, like the inside of a heart, like the hot beat of blood, like the perfect, golden summer afternoon.


	63. The Watches of the Night (SerxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking.
> 
> Wickedness.
> 
> Sweet dreams.

Ser Jaime Lannister growls in the darkness, feeling the blanket twist into an uncomfortable lump by his calf. It doesn’t take him long to realize that his russet cub’s fidgeting again, bumping at his leg with one pale foot, twisting in his embrace, tossing her body against him. He reluctantly opens one eye. 

“Laundry. You. In it.” he mumbles half asleep, kicking at the blanket with one well muscled leg till it’s more of a nest again, then feels Sansa draw a shuddering breath. Ser Jaime’s eyes open, adjusting to the dark, the half-light of the moon lighting Sansa’s face, her eyes open wide. He sighs softly, stroking her red hair the way he would Glory’s mane after the stallion’s taken fright, gentling his little beast, feeling her relax under his touch, her breath come slower, gentler against him. Ser Jaime rolls on his back to let her put her head on his chest, listen to his heartbeat, the rush of blood through his body.

“That’s my girl.” he purrs. Sansa nuzzles into his chest, the softness of her breath slight dampness of her lips, a smear of wetness from her eyes. 

“Don’t worry, my sweetling.” he whispers, caressing, using the soft, slow tone he’d use to soothe his horse, his hounds. 

Ser Jaime knows this works on little cubs, too. 

“Nothing and no one’s going to take you away. Not ever.” Sansa’s head jerks up from his chest, her eyes wide and silvered in the moonlight, amazed.  
“You knew.” she murmurs back, running her fingertips along one of his scars, tracing it like a pale river across his skin, she doesn’t need to see to know it’s there, breathes in his scent, his scent of honey and spices like all her lions, with his own dark musk, breath of worn leather and metal even now, a flicker of sage and salt from his hair.

“Of course I do, little love.” He smiles cockily, Sansa slowly smiling back. “If anyone tries, I’ll cut them to shreds faster than you can blink--no matter how many men they send.” He lowers his voice to a whisper, hissing sweetly as he rolls over, clasps her tight in his arms, feels her russet head under his chin. “Rivers of blood--all for you, my naughty girl.” He reaches a hand up to touch her lips and finds her smiling. “Wicked girl to smile at such things. No decent man would have you.” Ser Jaime chuckles and nips at her ear. “Nor woman.” It’s then that Sansa squeals in pleasure, wriggling against her Ser in a way that stirs him to hardness. He presses against the soft curve of her ass as he squeezes her, feeling her push back.

“It’s lucky for you your Lady and I will take you off their hands, isn’t it?” Ser Jaime bites at the perfect silky place at her neck and shoulder, growling and worrying at it, feeling Sansa pant and grind. He raises his head to whisper. “And if anyone dares; well. I’ll kill every last one and your Lady will burn their fields and castles to the earth--and then...” Sansa gasps as his fingers reach to her pearl, rubbing hard, sending wetness to her cunt, sparks up her spine as she grinds hard against him, panting happily because she knows the end to this story too--

“...and then, my slut of a cub....” Ser Jaime’s breath is hot in her ear, his fingers sliding in and out of her, Sansa working against her lion in perfect rhythm, perfect comfort, perfect pleasure--

“...I’ll bend you over and fuck you in the ashes like the filthy little bitch you are. My wicked little princess, my girl. Forever and ever. All. Mine.” Ser Jaime bites and thrusts, Sansa cries out high and sweet, gripping his fingers tight as a fist and comes hard, flooding his hand. She shudders again, then collapses, an armful of pale skin, red silk and a sweet smile, her eyes starting to flutter. 

“Thank you, Ser.” she murmurs. “Better.” And before Ser Jaime can do anything, she’s lying heavy on top of his arm, smiling prettily, in the moonlight as delicate and pale as the sleeping Maiden.

Ser Jaime grumbles internally that she’s left him with sticky fingers and a painfully stiff cock (because he likes the story just as much as she does, and the thought of his girl smeared with the ashes of their enemies is too delicious not to love), then looks and smiles, wrapping one leg firmly around her. Ser Jaime’s learned that little cubs need to feel safe. Protected.Loved. Even at the most inopportune times of night. Sansa snuggles into his arms, nestling, breathing slowly and tenderly--and Ser Jaime kisses the top of her head, shakes his golden hair and closes his own emerald eyes, breathing deeply, thinking of how they’ll play in the morning--and how happily she’ll thank him as she does every time he tends to her in the dark, sad hours of the night. As he slips into darkness, Ser Jaime can’t decide which is sweeter, his wolf-girl’s wicked smile as she slips between his legs in the morning or the smile she gives him when she wakes. His last thought before they both sleep is that he’ll never have to decide, that there will always be enough--and that’s how the lion and his cub slip back into dreams of ashes and chains and lemon cakes, straight on till morning.


	64. Stripes (LadyxCub)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei plays.
> 
> Sansa shows marks.
> 
> Love.

Cersei’s whole body sings like the whistle of her switch through the air, her blood sparkling like nameday wine, enflamed by the whimpers and squeals of her girl before her. Sansa’s nude but for her golden chain, her hair up in a lover’s knot so Cersei can stripe each pale side symmetrically, painting ruby lines on her lover’s ivory flesh. 

Sansa gasps and sweats, her hands tied to a hook that used to hold a chandelier; the Queen has added more rope so that it drops down to just the right height for a good whipping, then tucks back up to the ceiling when they’re done. Cersei thinks with a smirk that everyone underestimates her skills in more masculine arts which can be a valuable asset. However, that is diplomacy and intrigue and there’s none of that in the room hung with golden tapestries of grape harvests with hearty girls bouncing in vats, then scampering over woven hills to bathe in springs and garland their bodies with flowers--only them and no one else. 

Someday Cersei would like to tie her red sister in a chain of flowers and nettles, decorate her like one of those nymphs and tease her till she breaks a bond--and then things would become even more interesting, though not as interesting as what’s in front of her right now. 

Cersei wanders to the front to see how her girl fares. Sansa’s eyes are closed in ecstasy, her forehead dewed with sweaty red wisps of hair, her mouth open from laughing and yelping from the strokes. The Queen decides to tease and rolls one raspberry nipple between her fingers pinching lightly till Sansa opens her eyes. “Your Grace.” she sighs, sounding like a blissfully drunk bride, her smile warm and sweet, her eyes glazed with pleasure.

Cersei reaches up to pat Sansa’s hands, then goes to the corner table. Picking up a cup of blackberry juice she holds it to her lover’s lips. “Drink. Otherwise you’ll faint and at the very least we’ll have to play later.” Sansa gulps down the sweet, sticky liquid, clearly eager to continue.  
Cersei clicks her tongue. “Where are your manners, sweetling? Greedy little thing.” Cersei presses against Sansa, looking into her sapphire eyes as Cersei caresses the welts on her shoulder and rear, then moves her fingers lower. “Your mouth, my girl, is very greedy. Cakes, kisses, blackberry juice...” Sansa gasps as Cersei’s fingers squeeze at her pearl, releasing a flood of wetness. “Why your mouth is almost as greedy as this little mouth right here.” Cersei slides in two fingers easily, feeling Sansa’s slick petals part for her, feels her beloved’s cunt squeeze at them. The Queen growls low in her throat at the pleasure; she has a pretty toy from Lys carved heavy and smooth from carnelian that she thinks her cub will savor just as she will. Cersei casts a quick look at the white silk package on the table and resists the urge to cut her girl down , open their treat and have them fuck till they’re breathless and damp. That’s for later and there’s other business to attend to.

“Spread your legs, little slut.” Sansa complies quickly with a gleeful smile, her pale mound and rosy petals shamelessly on display. Cersei picks up a small, stinging tawse because her girl’s thighs need a bit of color. “Six on each side, sweetling.” She sees Sansa nod and leans in for the first stroke. The tails snap once, twice, three times and Sansa gasps at each one, then purrs as Cersei runs her fingertips over her handiwork. “So pretty. You could be a little tiger cub today.” Sansa laughs and Cersei takes that moment to deliver three lighting fast strokes up the right thigh to finish her pattern. Sansa’s eyes water and she sighs, but there is no wailing, only a dizzy, sweet sigh. “Good girl.” whispers Cersei, very proud of her little cub. 

Cersei steps back and steps out of her red silk robe, all ivory and gold in the firelight, like a beautiful statue. Sansa gazes in awe and happiness at her Queen and would pinch herself to make sure she’s not dreaming were her hands free. “Your Grace, you’re the most beautiful.” Sansa murmurs, smiling like a patient addled by milk of the poppy, but infinitely sweeter.

Cersei smiles and has to turn her head for a moment so her little dove doesn’t see her eyes. Sometimes they water when she can see herself as her girl does--radiant, splendid and strong, not vicious, petty or ungallant. She knows what people say and lets it bounce off her like rocks off plate mail. However, her princess can make any of those boulders turn to soap bubbles that only pop and disappear because what she sees matters. Cersei strokes Sansa’s cheek tenderly. “Such a sweet girl. You’ve earned a kiss, lovely.” Sansa leans forward to kiss at her Lady’s lips, her tongue tasting the salt of their sweat, the sweetness that is Cersei’s alone that makes her drunk quicker than honey wine, She moans as Cersei kisses back, runs her fingernails along the tender spot at the nape of her neck, her sound swallowed by Cersei as if it is the only thing that will sustain her. When they both can barely breathe, Cersei breaks the kiss. “Little lamprey.” she laughs, “always trying to grab onto me with that pretty tongue. It’s going to get you in trouble one day.” Cersei pauses.

“That’s now.” Cersei leans in and in quick succession stripes Sansa’s left thigh with four sharp strokes. Sansa doesn’t cry out but only breathes deep and slow. “Last two, sweet girl.” Cersei makes them count, the snap of the tawse blazing like fire across Sansa’s skin. 

“So good.” As she speaks, Cersei reaches to Sansa’s cunt, wetting her fingers, rubbing them over her girl’s thighs, blowing at them gently to cool the heat. She hears a joyful sigh of pleasure, rises to look her girl in the eye, finally hears what she’s saying.

“More, Your Grace, please, please more.” Sansa’s voice is half singing in pleasure and Cersei’s in an obliging mood. She tosses the tawse to the side. “Very well--and you know just what I like, don’t you?” Sansa nods.  
Cersei grins, her smile for a moment reflecting Ser Jaime’s. “Making you squeal like the naughty bitch you are.” Of course Sansa squeals and Cersei moves around to work with her hand, slapping away at Sansa’s ass. There’s nothing but moans and the slap of flesh on flesh, burning hotter and hotter like a fire, till Cersei’s wrist is sore. The Queen wraps herself around Sansa for a moment to recover, biting at her throat, both of them panting, Sansa throwing her head back as Cersei thrusts at her with her strong hips.

Cersei’s blood boils with heat, her mind a frenzy. She comes round to lock eyes with Sansa, her wildfire green against Sansa’s deep azure. Cersei snarls in delight, tugging at Sansa’s hair, feeling her girl whimper, smelling her girl’s arousal on the air itself, feeling Sansa grind against her, leaving slick marks on her body, her girl’s eyes burning with wicked, innocent lust, her sweet face bright, exquisitely naughty. The Queen can’t take that look, it’s driving her mad and she wants her girl to squeal, raises her hand. 

“I’m going to turn these pretty cheeks just as red as those down there, my little whore.” Cersei growls, her whole being ablaze as she raises her hand to Sansa’s face, readies to strike--  
hears a sharp intake of breath and a sob. “No.No.” Suddenly, the air is cold and Cersei’s blood is too as she sees Sansa shake, try to move her face away from her Queen. Cersei suddenly sees herself and curses; every tear is a a brick flung at her and every one strikes true; her blood freezes in her veins. She steps away from Sansa, takes a long shuddering breath, calms herself, then comes close, stroking Sansa’s hair. “Sansa. Sansa. Sansa, my little dove, my little red sister. Shhh. It’s all right. It’s all right. “ Sansa snuffles and sobs, her nose running, Cersei turning to the side table to pick up the sharp knife that’s been left there just in case. Supporting Sansa, Cersei cuts the rope and slides to the floor cradling her girl in her arms, rocking her like she’s a babe, covering Sansa with her body, draping her in the gold silk of her hair. Cersei bites her lip, afraid to say what’s next but being a lioness of the rock she’ll face it head on but she hears a whisper

“Septa.” Then Sansa sobs as if her heart is breaking, wrapping her arms around her Lady. Cersei wraps her arms around her girl, like trying to bind her close, staunch a wound, rocks against her, a tiny hot tear of anger trickling from her own eye, rage welling up--she wants to annihilate this Septa, strap her to a stake, tie every arm and leg to four swift horses and goad them to run, throw her in the black cells where there aren’t even snails for her to gnaw on, bring Sansa her ugly head on a silver plate to try and make her smile again---

but that’s not for now. Instead, Cersei kisses her forehead. “I’m so sorry sweetling, my Sansa-girl. I’m so, so sorry. “ Cersei’s heart is in her throat, she feels like she’s going to be sick

and then her heart’s back in the right place as she feels with relief her girl’s arms around her, kisses pressed to whatever skin Sansa can reach. “ I was too hot-blooded. “ Cersei whispers, nuzzling against Sansa’s neck. “I shouldn’t have done that then, not without asking you.” Sansa looks up and Cersei blots her tear streaked face with her own golden hair. “Shhh. You’re safe here. “ Cersei gulps, tries not to have her voice tremble. “I love you, my little dove--and I’ll love you always if you...still want that. “ Cersei’s stomach is tangled in knots, it’s the first time she’s said it out loud and its’s now. The wrong time.

Sansa looks up, moves her ruby head to Cersei’s chest, her tears drying as she rubs her head against her lioness’. “Of course, my Lady. Of course I will. You didn’t know.” Even with her watering eyes Sansa smiles up at her, presses her lips to her Lady’s be-ringed hand and cuddles close. Cersei finally rests her head in her cub’s hair,still stroking as she hears and feels another whisper. “I love you, my Lady.” For a moment Cersei’s shoulders shake as she weeps into her cub’s hair holding her close, tears streaming down her face kissing her girl as if she’ll never let her go. Then she’s back to being strong, letting Sansa cry, offering her sips of blackberry juice, bits of cheese, the arm and leg of a gingerbread man, water, patting her face with a cool cloth, still afraid that Sansa will take off her gold chain and fling it to the corner.

Sansa takes the cooke and breaks off the head, holding it to her Lady’s lips. “For you. “ she whispers. “It’s your favorite part.” Suddenly they’re both laughing, Cersei chewing on the sharp, spicy roundness, trying not to choke from laughing and swallowing at the same time, chasing it with some of Sansa’s blackberry juice so she can swallow. Sansa wraps her arms around her Lady’s neck. kissing.

“Wait.” Cersei murmurs, taking Sansa’s hand. The Queen puts her strong pale hands between them. “Put your other hand over.” Sansa complies. “These are only here to please you. Please us.” Sansa looks into Cersei’s eyes, her lioness’ hands between hers. “Only to please you or correct you, not to hurt you. Only for pleasure. Forever. I promise.”

Sansa’s the one that leans forward to kiss now, clutches her Lady like a drowning man clutches land, like she’ll never let her go.

***

Cersei bathes Sansa with lavender soap, caresses her with honey and lavender oil, scoops her up in her best red cloak and tucks her into bed. “We’ll play tomorrow if you want.” Cersei purrs in Sansa’s ear, tucking a red curl behind it. Sansa opens her drowsing eyes as Cersei wraps her arms around her. They shine dark in the half-light of the candles and Cersei can tell her eyes are sparkling from pleasure not tears.

“I want.” says Sansa with a smile that could light the entire room. 

Cersei feels warm again, like a queen, like herself. “Good. I have lots of games. Ones I know you’ll like.” (That carnelian treat will get unwrapped after all and the Queen likes thinking of that. 

Sansa cuddles close to her Lady, squeezing her hand three times, knowing what it means, how her Lady speaks. Cersei takes a deep breath and says it warm in the darkness where no one else will ever hear, because she wants to.

“I love you, little dove.”

“I love you, my Lady.”

It feels perfect. 

Sansa falls asleep in minutes, held close and happy, all the sorrow gone. Cersei lies awake for a few moments, then feels her little cub nuzzle her chest as she sleeps. The Lannister lioness can relax now, think of tomorrow’s pleasures and delight in how she’ll make Sansa cry out with pleasure over and over. Stroking Sansa’s hair, she slips into sleep, the golden half of their ruby and gold heart, beating strong and bright in the darkness.


	65. Strap (Ser JaimexSansa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has naughty thoughts.
> 
> Ser Jaime tends to his cub.
> 
> Love conquers all.
> 
> Note: This chapter is a gift for InfiniteEssence.

Ser Jaime is in his quarters, hiding from a visit, his teeth aching from smiles. 

There’s a knock on his door. Ser Jaime is grateful that it’s his girl, his little red cub.

“Hello, sweetling. Slipping away to see your Ser, are you? I can’t say that I mind...”  
Sansa blushes to the tips of her ears. “They’re eating. And...” her voice lowers. “Margaery Tyrell tried to take my hand.” 

Ser Jaime’s face grows stern. “I see.” He stands and in a stride is across the room, next to Sansa. “Kneel.” Sansa drops to her knees, her skirts a swirl of crimson and gold her hair falling over her face, her breath coming quickly.

“I see someone before me.” growls Ser Jaime. He takes a black leather gloved hand, gently winds Sansa’s russet hair around it till she’s pulled up to look at him. He whispers slowly, sweetly, menacingly. “I see a little sister who needs punishment. For her own good.”  
Sansa’s breath comes soft and fluttering, shy little gasps, and she’s slowly coming undone.  
Good.  
Ser Jaime grins on the inside, then turns to Sansa. “I know my little love likes pretty things--and this Tyrell girl’s a pretty thing, isn’t she? All those curls, those bright eyes, those fluffy dresses. She’s like a doll. And I know my little girl loves dolls.” Ser Jaime purrs in Sansa’s ear. “Just like I know you’re wet at the thought of that little rosebud taking your hand--maybe sliding it under her lavender skirt, hmmm?”

Sansa whispers. “Yes, Ser.” blushing, hanging her head in shame. “Now, now.” Ser Jaime returns to stroking her hair. “You were a sweet girl and told me. I know you’re my good girl even if you want to be naughty. I know you like pretty ladies--though I know lionesses are your favorite.” 

A tiny smile flickers across Sansa’s face as she nods yes.

“Yes, what?” he growls.

“Yes, Ser.” Sansa says out loud.

“Pretty.” Ser Jaime tilts his head to one side, listening, his ears cocked.  
“But not correct, little love. Little lioness.”

Sansa looks puzzled, then nervous.

Ser Jaime runs his fingers along her cheek, to her neck, untying her bodice and reaching for her breast. He rolls her nipple between his fingers then pinches hard, watching her squirm, squeak as she tries to think. Sansa’s confused and excited and somehow he knows she’s wet and he’s pinching, her, playing with her...

“There may be a pretty doll from Highgarden here.” Ser Jaime whispers hot, silky in her ear, brazenly pulling her head down to his crotch to rub against his stiffened cock. “But you don’t get to play with her.” 

Sansa’s lips turn and brush against the fabric, her warm moist breath heating the skin underneath, making Ser Jaime groan inside, but he loves the chase, knows she does too.

“You know why, sweetling.”  
“You’re somebody else’s dolly. You get played with--” Ser Jaime nibbles at her neck, tugs at her hair “dressed in pretty clothes”, he rolls Sansa’s skirt to her waist to expose her bare cunt, sugared and tweezed till it is soft as silk, pale as fine china “kept safe and close like a treasure. “ Ser Jaime tugs on her waist chain, feeling Sansa melt under his hand, start to babble and murmur.

“Let’s try again.”

Sansa has to breathe slowly before she can answer.

“Yes, my brother.” she gasps in pleasure. 

Ser Jaime watches, impassive as a trickle of clear fluid slides down along her thigh. Mmm.

“That’s right. Very good, little sister. Very, very good.” He lifts her to her feet, gesturing for her to keep her skirt up, rubs hard against her while his fingers tease her breasts. “You’re my doll. I get to play with you. Just as I like.”

Ser Jaime chuckles. “Septas say boys shouldn’t play with dolls. How foolish. I think every young man should have such a pretty doll. They’re such fun.” He tugs at Sansa’s nipple, bites at her earlobe, growling. He feels her sway against him, lift to move towards his lips twisting to try and kiss, giggling and frustrated. Sansa yelps as he pinches at her nipples and she raises up on her toes, moving back and forth as he twists, teases.

“Oh look. “ he murmurs. “I’m making mine dance.” Sansa groans and giggles at the same time, the air heavy with her arousal, her thighs slicked again. “Good dolly.” he whispers in her ear. “My pretty doll. My delicious little sister.” He turns her around, rewards her with a kiss, his large hands tangling in her hair, letting her run her fingers through his golden curls till she’s panting like a little puppy.

(Ser Jaime regrets that there’s not enough time to take her out to the stables on her leash--but that’s what the evening is for.)

 

“Love my brother. My Ser. “ whispers Sansa, her eyes huge, blue, liquid. “Always. I belong to you.” “That’s right.” Ser Jaime purrs. Sansa beams. “Always.”

“You are such a good girl, aren’t you?” Ser Jaime nuzzles Sansa’s neck. “Yes, you are.  
“However, I’m man of the house--and you’ve been naughty.”  
Sansa’s eyes grow wide.

“Against the wall.” Sansa presses the tip of her nose to the hunting tapestry, hears a familiar hiss of leather against leather, makes a soft little cry even as she feels herself slick in pleasure.

“Yes. Little sister knows what that is.” Ser Jaime doubles the belt, smacks it into his hand, letting Sansa only hear it. “We need to keep order. Have to make sure my little sister stays a good girl--remind her who she belongs to. Discipline mixed with love.” He comes over to nip at her ear.

“And lust, dirty girl.”  
He tugs at her to get her to turn, face him, holds the worn burgundy leather to her lips. Sansa kisses without having to be told and Ser Jaime feels himself leap with pleasure inside at her rosy lips pressed against the leather. 

He sits on the bed, pats the side.

“You know where to go, little sister. We don’t have too much time or your guests will be looking for you. But there’s always time for you to be over my knee.”

Sansa arranges herself over her Ser’s lap, her dress ruched around her waist, her rear and thighs exposed, her head dipped. Ser Jaime reaches his fingers between her legs, rubs the slickness over her bare curves. 

“You do need a lesson, little sister. That had better be all for your Ser. You know it is.” Sansa nods yes, which he feels against his thigh. “Ten nice hard ones. I know it’s hard for my naughty little sister--but I like it. Want to see you all red.”

He grins.

“And no cushions for you this afternoon. Want my little doll to feel it, know her brother loves her enough to punish her, help her be a better girl.” Sansa moans, feeling his hand on her, squeezing and scratching at her ass, softly smacking till she’s pink, wriggling in pleasure.

“Ten, sweetling.”

She braces herself, feels the heavy, sharp impact of the first blow, the heavy edge of the belt, finds herself winded. Ser Jaime gazes at the bright red mark on her ass, raises the belt, hits twice more, hard and fast. Sansa yelps at the sudden pain, then feels Ser Jaime caress her curves, soothing her skin.

“Has to hurt if you’re to heal, naughty girl.”

The next one he bears down hard, the leather cracking against her ass. Sansa muffles a cry in the pillow, squirming as Ser Jaime holds her down.

“Mind, little sister. Mind.”

The hot snap of the leather against her skin makes Sansa yelp, the next one sharp and burning right at the top of her thighs, right where she’s tender.  
Sansa feels wetness trickle down her legs at the same time her eyes betray her with tears. Her shoulders shake as she groans her pain into the pillow. She loves it, loves hurting for him, riding the edge of the pain as it transmutes to pleasure--

(and she likes the red too, the violet, like blossoms or jewels scattered on her skin after.)

 

The next one crosses like a line of fire, Sansa now crying. “Let it out.” growls Ser Jaime. “Good girl.”

Ser Jaime lets her wriggle, takes a moment to reach between her legs and play with her pearl, give her a bit of tenderness. 

“The next ones will all be one line--all strikes in the same place. You know my arm. You know they’ll be true. “ Sansa quivers in fear and anticipation. 

Ser Jaime says firmly. “You will be still. You will not move. I want you to feel this, feel your Ser’s mark on you. You’re mine. You can cry. You will not move.”

The first mark scorches like a burn the crack still ringing in the air, so hard Sansa’s winded, tears running down her face, her body tingling from the shock and afterglow of it, the delicate pleasure from her pearl still rippling through her body

then straight atop it, sharp and hard as a razor cut the next and Sansa’s crying now hard, gulping somewhere in ecstasy and pain, feeling like there’s no division between her and him, that there’s only her Ser, her brother who she adores, her lover, her daddy, the beast who scruffs her at the neck, teaches her their ways

_heat burning in her like they can’t be apart, melting into him, his breath hers, her breath his, feeling him shake as she cries she’s always been his sister and his lover, there’s never been a time it’s not true never been a time they haven’t been hand in glove his hand her glove_

_yes_ Sansa thinks, sobbing, drooling onto the pillow, _yes yes yes_

as Ser Jaime looks at Sansa, strong, sobbing, the stripes across her skin, his own brave girl, his slut, his red sister, his little girl his love

(and yes his pretty doll)

Ser Jaime brings down the last stroke to make a sharp, raised red line right across the center of her rear and he knows it will bruise. He feels her tremble, lets the belt rest across her as he caresses, then reaches between her legs to slick his fingers and rub them over his handiwork.

He whispers “Good girl, my little girl. You did so well. No need to cry now.”

Sansa’s tears slowly stop, her lips kissing at his thigh, her hips rolling.

“Oh.” laughs Ser Jaime. “My little slut of a sister wants something doesn’t she?”

He feels her nod.

“But you still need to remember who’s in charge sweet girl. I’m going to make sure of that. You’ll get to come--but you’re going to remember. Is that what my little sister wants?”

Sansa nods, _yes, yes,_ hungry to have Ser Jaime inside her, like she can’t be satisfied till then.

"My filthy little princess.” Ser Jaime laughs, sliding her round, bending her over the bed, checking her hands to make sure she can grab.”Brotherfucker.” Sansa moans, wetting down her leg, feeling it drip as Ser Jaime watches, leans down to press his body against hers. 

"My girl.My darling whore of a sister. Mine.” Sansa growls, baring her teeth, thrusting back. 

Ser Jaime has a mischievous grin, has already started oiling his gloved fingers. “Somebody wants to fuck.” he whispers teasingly. “I know it. Especially if it’s her brother filling her up nice and hot. “ Sansa wriggles. “Hold. My way.” 

“Mmm. I know you, slut.” Sansa’s eyes open wide as she feels his fingers working gently at the pink star, the center of the red burning line across her cheeks. “Ahhhhhhhh.” she moans as she feels the drip of oil, the first sweet stretch of his fingers inside her. 

“Interesting.” Ser Jaime growls, his gloved fingers pushing inside her. “Seems I want to play with a little rosebud today too. Just like my slutty little sister--who’s greedy for me, isn’t she?” Sansa nods _yes yes yes_ , her hair falling into her face, her back arching. 

“Somebody wants to fuck even more when it’s her daddy.” Sansa yelps. Ser Jaime growls, feeling her drop from pleasure, relax, let him in further. “That’s right. So good. So tight for me.” 

“It’s going to hurt.” Ser Jaime breathes hotly into her ear. “But you know how good it will feel.” Three full fingers--and his other hand at her mouth, feeling her kiss his fingertips. 

Sansa can barely even speak, can only feel, she’s so hungry for him. There’s another spill of oil, the head of Ser Jaime’s cock against her. She doesn’t need to be told to move to pull him in but she does, crying out sweetly as her Ser fills her, fucking slowly, firmly. 

"That’s my girl. “ Ser Jaime sighs, feeling her him hot and sweet round him, holding tight to his hand, thrusting back at him, groaning as he wraps his arm around her waist. “ So warm for me, so willing, such a good girl.” He breathes warm and wet on her neck, feeling his sweat slick the top of her gown where she’s still dressed, her crimson and gold skirt spilled all around them. Sansa sighs in pleasure with every thrust. 

“You’ve got guests.” he gasps. “I’ll just have to come extra fast.” Sansa cries out sharp high and sweet, the way she does when she’s so close. She’s writhing, gasping, her hair a rosy cloud. “Hump the bed, sweetling.” Ser Jaime purrs. “You can do it. I know my little slut of a girl.” Sansa wriggles, blushing, working her hips against the sheets and blankets. “That’s right. Just like a naughty little puppy.” The last words make Sansa thrust in a frenzy, past all words, only growls and moans.  
He’s pulling all the way out, pushing back in fiercely. Sansa feeling the sharp sweetness at the base of her spine spreading out as she pushes back, both of them in perfect rhythm. 

All mine.” he snarls, fucking fiercely, so close. “You’re going to sit there with those Tyrells.” Ser Jaime gasps, Sansa flushing with sweetness and shame and ravenous pleasure, “...burning and sore from your brother, your lover, your master.” His hand reaches below to play with her pearl, circling and rubbing just the way he knows she likes it. 

Sansa screams into the bedclothes, biting at them like a wild creature. “Squirmy girl.” he snarls. “Squirmy girls need to be held down so Daddy can get a good, hard fuck.” His body heavy on top of her, Sansa cries out, pouring hot and wet into the bedclothes, Ser Jaime feeling the wetness on his thighs.  
It’s when he’s holding her down that Ser Jaime groans thrusts, pours every bit of his seed into her, already lamenting that he can’t do it again yet, but still, sated, happy. He moves the mass of red hair to see his cub’s smiling face. Ser Jaime licks the back of her neck, kissing at her ear. 

“Best of all girls.” he sighs. “My perfect little girl.” 

“Thank you, my brother. My Ser.” Sansa’s eyes twinkle as she twists up, whispers “My Daddy.” with a kiss, her sweet pink tongue savoring him as he holds her. 

Ser Jaime slides out, already missing his girl’s warmth. He pauses to admire the red stripes on her rear, the pearl drops of his seed bejeweling them.  
“Hold still.” he admonishes Sansa and she stays as he reaches into the clothespress. She feels another pour of oil, then a cool heaviness inside. “Perfect.” he growls. “That should remind my naughty girl to be good.” Sansa wriggles her hips gently, feeling the plug deep inside her. “Hard to sit down.” she gasps. 

Ser Jaime grins. “Good.” He kisses her cheek. “Hold still now.” 

Ser Jaime takes a towel, dampens it with lavender water,starts to wipe away the oil, her fluids (it’s his pleasure to have her smell like an alley whore, not the Tyrells). He tidies her, brushes her hair, tugs at her earlobes till she laughs, kisses her again and again. “Eat these.” he murmurs, slipping her almonds and dried apricots, watching intently as she eats, drinks her water. He strokes her cheek, kisses her temple, rubs his head against hers till she’s done. 

"Such a good girl. You did so well. Little lioness.” 

Sansa reaches up to kiss him, hungry for her Ser too. 

It’s a long kiss, his tongue and hers tangling furiously. Then Ser Jaime does up the ties on the front of her dress, wipes her face clean one more time, and kisses her on the nose, then the lips. 

"Off you go, sweetling.” He hands her her sewing basket. “Don’t forget to think of me.” He grins brightly. Sansa blushes, the plug cool and heavy inside her. She runs and kisses him. “Love you Ser.” she whispers. “Love you too, little red sister. When you come back, I’ll have a treat for you for taking your punishment so well.”  
Ser Jaime nips at her ear once more. “Hurry. Mind your manners.” Sansa laughs and scampers down the hall. 

Ser Jaime sits back, contemplating his little cub squirming on a hard chair while having to be a little lady. It makes him smile; he knows she’ll do it perfectly. He’ll have to decide just what to have for her in the evening,but he knows there will be lemon cakes--and perhaps tongue strokes or cane strokes or filthy words to get a bite. He knows she’ll get kisses where she likes them best, so she’ll wriggle and blush and laugh with joy. Ser Jaime grins and returns to his pleasurable task, his mind always on his little girl. 


	66. Nerves (JaimexSansa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feast.
> 
> A nervous cub.
> 
> A courteous Ser.

There’s a knot in the pit of Sansa’s stomach. The high tables in the grand hall are being polished, fresh rushes and carpets and twenty-seven courses from leek soup to marchpane and Sansa’s busy trying to remember everything, brace herself for the onslaught that she can only fight back with poise, cleverness and charm (as well as a bit of listening. Everyone says things to the pretty handmaid; and like a bird instead of a lion-cub or wolf-cub she’ll tidy them away in her nest, to bring them forth to her lioness later). Today she’s very nervous, needs comfort and her Lady is sequestered in her apartments as she does the day before a feast. Sansa knows she does not want company at these times; Cersei’s putting on her own armour. Sansa knows where to go.  
Ser Jaime lets her in before she even needs to knock. He growls at her softly, his golden hair shimmering as the sun dips lower. “Sad little cub?” he purrs. Sansa nods, the ache in her stomach starting to soothe. She curls up, her cheek against the shining cinnamon leather of his boot, dotting it with a tiny kiss. Ser Jaime strokes her ruby hair as they both watch the fire. “You’re thinking too hard, sweetling.” He taps her on the forehead, dragging his nails across her scalp, all the way down to the nape of her neck, one strong hand then the other. Sansa feels the knot start to unroll in her stomach, replaced by the pleasure of her lion caressing her, grooming her. Despite herself, she purrs a tiny purr. “Good girl.” Ser Jaime leans down, nipping at her ear, the bite like a bright sparkle against her skin. He curls down on the hearthrug next to her, pulling her against him, never ceasing the gentle scratches. The air is redolent with the smokiness of the fire, the honey and spices of her Ser, the hint of honey and rosemary from his hair. Sansa sighs softly like she’s drinking something rich and sweet, feeling it warm her from within, rolls over.

Ser Jaime leisurely, slowly slides atop her, his teeth sharp and white, pinning her wrists.Looking into her eyes, he thrusts, rubbing himself hard against her. (Ser Jaime knows full well what this does to his wolf-girl.) Sansa’s sighs of pleasure hiss like smoke rising from the wood, glimmer like sparks, like the emerald of her Ser’s eyes. 

“My little cub needs to remember something. “ Ser Jaime grins, using his free hand to slide up her skirts, stroking his fingertips along the soft bare spaces above her knee-tied stockings. Sansa’s body arches in pleasure, she growls back, relaxing and any distress slipping away. Ser Jaime pauses.  
“Whose are you,little love?”  
“Yours.” murmurs Sansa, feeling her blood turn to warm fire and honey, liquid and pleased, whispering back at her Ser, reminded with a slow roll of her hips of his chain around her waist. “Every bit, Ser.” she whispers, feeling him loose her wrists, knowing from the tilt of his head she’s not to move them.

“That’s right.” Ser Jaime kisses her on the forehead. “Here.” He presses two fingers to his lips, then presses them to the ruby toes of her slippers “--to here.” Lewdly grinning, he runs his hands over her dress, pinching at her nipples, reaching under her rolled skirt to caress her belly “And every lovely bit in between.” He strokes her pearl, till she’s gasping and slick. “Sweetest little cunt. My sweetest little cunt.” Sansa groans at the pressure of his two callused fingers in her involuntarily tries to draw her legs up, over her Ser’s waist.

“No. This is just for you. For now.” Ser Jaime grins wickedly. “Can’t have my little cub being so worried. Can’t. Have. Her. Appetite. Spoiled.” Thrust after thrust of his fingers and Sansa’s bucking against them. Ser Jaime looks in in delight at Sansa writhing on his fingers, dancing like a doll. “Haven’t got too much time, guests will be here soon.” he chuckles “so be a very good girl and come hard. For me.” Without any warning his head dips to the soft wetness between her legs to lick and nip at her pearl, three fingers fucking her cunt as she tightens, groaning as he does into her flesh, Sansa feeling the soft trickle down her thighs. Thrusting and growling, he feasts on her, a lion devouring his prey while he nourishes her with every thrust, every flick of tongue.

Sansa rocks, feels it build, lifts her hips in rapture. It’s then Ser Jaime bites on her pearl and she howls in bliss, feeling her body enflame, burn, melt into his. He won’t let her stop yet, but licks , nibbles and licks, tugging at the rough spot inside her cunt and she hears a soft growl into the tender skin of her mound shaking her through. There’s no longer any worries, just her and her Ser, the taste of blood from her bitten cheek, his scent now heavy with musk, her own sweetness and all she can think is _yours Ser yours_.

With a cry Sansa comes again, soaking the hearthrug, gasping, murmuring, purring, unable to speak, even as Ser Jaime comes up smiling, licking at his own lips before he kisses her, Sansa’s salt and honeyed sweetness mixing on their tongues. Sansa could drink of him forever her tongue moving to familiar chipped tooth to smooth lips to silken silver tongue. Ahhh.  
Kissing back, Ser Jaime could glut himself on her too, damn any feast. When their lips separate, they’re both flushed, warm. Happy.

Ser Jaime shifts to the side, pulls his little lioness to curl next to him, hearing the soft, easy rise and fall of her breath, tucking his legs outside hers, feeling her nudge his head with hers. They rub against each other soft, pleased, happy. It’s too short before Ser Jaime nips at against Sansa’s neck just as she’s dozing off. “Come now, little red sister.“ Sansa makes a soft grumbling noise as she sits up, Ser Jaime combing the tangles out of her hair with his fingers.

“Now. You’re going to go be lovely for this blasted dinner. You’re going to sit by your Lady, listen, make conversation and have a tiny nibble from each dish. “ Sansa nods, feeling braver, her own armour wrapping around her. “Very model of a sweet little lady-and a beautiful one.” Ser Jaime pauses for a long, sweet kiss. He straightens her lavender gown, walks her to the door. “Don’t eat too much.” he growls, Sansa draping herself against his chest.

“Because when this is done, you and I are going to slip downstairs...” Sansa’s face brightens, Ser Jaime grins. “...and I’m going to sink my cock into that sweet, hot little cunt of yours--” his breath hot and she can feel him purr “--right on that nice smooth table.” Sansa squirms, giggling in pleasure. “I’ll consider it my reward for not stabbing a dull guest....” he whispers warm on her cheek “...when there’s a precious little wolf-girl I’d much rather be stabbing.” Giving her a quick kiss, he opens the door. “Off you go, little love. Mine.” Sansa kisses back and runs along down the hall. 

Ser Jaime runs his tongue over his lips again. Right as rain--his little girl will be cheery, good-humored and brave since she knows there’s a treat for her. It’s a good incentive for proper behavior. 

Ser Jaime notes that it’s an excellent incentive for him as well; the thought will get him through an endless feast. Humming happily, he turns to dress.


	67. Ladylove (CerseixSansa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold.  
> Dark.  
> Warm.  
> A leash has two ends.

Cersei wakes; she’s rolled over onto her belly, her face down in the pillow. She wants to scream but she does not, wrenching herself up, she can breathe, her lungs filled with cool sweet night air. Not feathers.   
She wants to claw at the bed-curtains, smash things, scream until she’s sure she can breathe again, that there will not be a dreadful softness clogging her nose and mouth, gagging her, smothering.

But Sansa’s asleep, dreaming. Cersei swings her pale legs over the edge of the bed, goes to the chair, listens to the tiny noises, the snap of twigs in the fire, the soft clink and murmur of guards around and above, far below, waves against rock. 

She can’t say it out loud yet but she thinks it. 

_Cersei. My name is Cersei Lannister._

She has learned to mask trembling; to do that she grips the heavy wineglass on the table. She can feel the dimples in the glass, the pattern of triangles like teeth along the rim, Casterly Rock glassware, counts them in the dark.  
Cersei hates feeling enfeebled. Were she Jaime, she’d go out in the darkness and hack at straw men till they blew away with the dawn--or she hopes she’d feel too tired to do so after arming, let herself disarm, sleep. 

But things are as they are and she’s up here, awake in darkness, tracing notches on the rim of a wineglass. Her lids drag slowly then snap awake again.

She does not put her head down but keeps it up and strong. Cersei will stay up all night if she has to. Her brain buzzes, thinks of the gold around her sleeping girl’s neck, Sansa’s sapphire eyes looking up at her with love. The only eyes that have ever looked at her like that have been emerald. Or sapphire.

Nights like this sometimes a tenderness is worse than being struck. More raw. 

Sansa looks at Cersei like she’s wonderful. 

A Queen, a golden wicked seductress, a glorious lioness, inspiring awe and fear and lust, strong to carry the emeralds and sapphires locked to her till the day she dies; a Queen who’s still in the dark, on the third round of counting notches on an empty glass. Cersei shivers; she hurts. It is cold. Painful. Creature words. Piteous ones and she is not to be pitied, she has teeth and claws and her name is Cersei Lannister.

She hears the soft pad of bare feet, already knows Sansa’s walking to her, facing her so Cersei can see her approach, the flash of eyes, the warm gleam of gold that Cersei put around her throat.

“May I touch you, my Lady?” A pale hand extended half way.

“No.” Cersei snarls, then softens. It’s just her little dove.

“Not yet.”

“All right.” Sansa sits by the fire watching the shapes of the glowing embers, the light glowing through her gown, limning her curves with gold. She is patient.

It has been hard for Sansa to learn that her Lady doesn’t always want cuddles, that a tight embrace doesn’t always make her Lady feel safe, not the way it makes Sansa feel. But she has. 

(Cersei doesn’t know this, but Sansa makes sure the chair is by the fire, makes sure the heavy wineglass is on the table every night. Sansa’s her girl and she’s not going to let her Lady be lost in the dark, not have what she needs.

Sansa has her own dark nights.)

“You look cold, my Lady. Would you like something to warm you?”

Cersei is afraid to form the next word, but does. A lioness does not fear.  
“Yes.”

Sansa’s taking a moment and Cersei wonders where she could be going. Then Cersei sees Sansa approaching to the side, so she can see.  
The Queen feels safe enough to close her eyes, unwrap her fingers from the glass and put it down. 

Cersei feels warm, breathes deeply, sweetly, the soft and scratch of wool against her skin, good on her fingers. Sansa tucks in a corner. Cersei recognizes the other material, the cherry red leather trim, suede. The one that makes Sansa’s cheeks bloom like roses.

“Your cloak.”

“Yes.” says Sansa, warm, sweet, as alive as a beating heart.

Cersei grips the edge of the wool, suddenly afraid of what’s next. She’s a daughter of the Rock, a warrior. Not afraid.

_My name is Cersei Lannister_

“Are you sure? Little dove?”

Sansa stands in front of her Queen, her voice clear in the silence, her moon-pale hand out.

“I wrapped you, my Lady.”

Cersei has words for these, but strings them silently, like links on a golden chain. Instead, she kisses Sansa’s fingertips, she smiles a brave smile, takes Sansa’s hand in hers. Cersei lets herself be walked back to bed, laid safely on her back, wrapped warm, red leather trim soft on her fingertips. Before the wave of sleep breaks over her at last, Cersei murmurs, lifting the cloak.

“Come keep me warm, little dove. There’s room.” Cersei pauses. “Always.”

“Thank you, my Lady. I’m glad.” The warm soft snuggle of pale skin, ruby hair, soft breath on Cersei’s shoulder. Like that, Cersei feels worthy again. Strong.   
“I love you, my Lady.”  
Cersei can move her arm and hold Sansa close now.   
“I love you, little dove.”

Cersei’s mind drifts to a veldt, to little russet cubs licking at their dam’s golden fur, keeping her clean of dust and dirt, ready for the hunt. She tucks her head over Sansa’s and they fall asleep, hair mingled gold and ruby in the darkness warm and safe for this night and all nights to come.


	68. Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This chapter has intense knife and bloodplay. If this is not something you want to read, skip it.
> 
>  
> 
> Lost girl.
> 
> Claws.
> 
> Found girl.

"All knights must bleed, Jaime. Blood is the seal of our devotion."  
Ser Arthur Dayne to Ser Jaime Lannister

I.  
Sansa’s raw like she’s been dropped in the bucket of sand the squires keep to clean Ser Jaime’s armor.

She’s not shining, feels almost skinless. 

Sansa buries her head in her Ser’s lap, nuzzling for comfort rather than lust; she feels scattered to the corners of the world, ground to dust, dry as her tongue. Ser Jaime’s been at practice, still not tidy from dirt and scratches and the rich darkness of sweat, tang of metal, musk, honey spices, all the things that make Sansa weak in the knees.

Today they’re just keeping her here. Sansa wraps her arms around Ser Jaime’s legs, rubbing her cheek against the rough fabric of his breeches, feeling the shift and heaviness of her waist chain under her gown. With her eyes closed, Sansa imagines she’s tiny as a small girl, gripping a rock, that she won’t be swept away, She’s not Lady Sansa, not here. 

She feels a heavy rough, familiar hand at her hair, callused fingers unknotting a tangle as he likes to do; Ser Jaime has no patience for knots and slices through them like a hot knife through butter--but not here.Here he’s slow and patient wouldn’t ever want to snarl his pretty girl’s hair. So in the sunlight he works at his task, untwining the knot of red silk till it’s smooth again, smooth and gentle as Sansa’s breath.

Sansa is so comfortable she can’t help but make a tiny hiccuping cry though a sob won’t come.  
She can’t think about organizing tables and which of the Redwyne sisters can’t sit next to each other anymore, complex as cyvasse with gossip, twenty mummers and eight sugary subtleties. Too many letters, to write, too many things, too many things to feel.

Sansa’s frustrated, tired and her lady’s armor weighs like stone on her back.  
Courtesy doesn’t lift her now, but pins her down and Sansa wants her worth, her lady’s wings back.  
Sansa drops to the ground, presses her cheek to her Ser’s boots, not minding that they’re in need of a polish, the scent of leather and crushed grass filling her lungs, her arms around them, her pale fingers caressing the deep black of the leather around Ser Jaime’s calves.

On the floor she can breathe again. 

Nothing but the cool stone floor under her, Ser Jaime’s boots above her, her hair like spilled wine over all. It is pure calm, pure silence. Sansa lets it break over her like the waves that beat at the base of the Rock, presses the tip of her tongue to one toe, then snuggles, rooting herself to the ground.

Everything feels all right here.

Ser Jaime watches, his hair damp in curls of matted gold, his emerald eyes roving over the curve of his girl’s body admiring, the glint of the gold chain around her neck, the rise and fall of her breath. He reaches down to scratch at her scalp, feels her sigh, melt.

“My girl.”  
He scratches slowly, long ones that curve round to the base of her skull and neck, then circle at the top of her head just as she likes. Sansa’s so weary she could be asleep on the floor at any moment.

There’s still a lump in her throat, the unwept tears, the annoyance, hot anger that she’s had to smooth away. Sometimes they build up.

Sansa breathes, makes a tiny squeak. Were she to open her eyes she’d see that Ser Jaime’s are green and deep as a sun-warmed forest pool. 

“I know what you need. Better than you.”

Ser Jaime pauses.

“We do.”

He is her Lady’s hand as well as his; sometimes when they play, his hair brushes hers and she swears it’s Cersei’s perfumed golden waves, his rough fingertips turned liquid sweetness, smoothed from hours of massage with scented oils, then Ser is himself again, nipping at her lip. When she’s bruised from kisses, her Lady’s teeth grip like her Ser’s, her hips thrust hard as his. This is how they twine together, gold and rubies, somehow all present. Perfect. 

It is simply the way things are. Sansa knows this.They all do.

Sansa nods yes, yes, her chin bumping her Ser’s toe, starting to return with the hard leather against her skin, tiny blush from the impact.

II.  
Since she’s a good girl, Sansa waits at Ser’s chair, her hands folded just as he’s placed them, blindfolded. Sansa wouldn’t peek.  
She scents him on the air, the sharp hot musk of his excitement, hears him singing softly: _Six Maids in A Pool_ , one of her favorites. Sansa can’t help herself but hums along, riding on the melody, each pretty word, trying not to giggle when Ser Jaime slips in a bawdy verse.

(He hums it to her at night sometimes. Her Lady prefers songs about battles and courage, but softens them to lullabies when her girl needs it, coiled round her in the dark and quiet of the curtained bed.

Sansa knows things now; she knows that lions sing. Hers do and that’s what matters.)

III.

Sansa feels the motion of air, the warmth of sunlight, clean and sweet; then leather worn smooth. The sharp scent of metal, the perfume of blades.

Sansa shivers with delight.

Ser Jaime doesn’t speak, but scoops her up, carrying her through her own darkness till she’s on her back on what she knows is the table, what she feels is the soft weave of clean white cloth.

Then his hot breath on her ear.

“Not a twitch, little love. Absolutely still.” He laughs low, teases wickedly. “You know I love my little girl with all her toes and fingers.” Sansa’s face unfolds into a smile. 

Sansa feels the brush of a fingertip near left ear as her Ser arranges, hums a few notes of _Florian and Jonquil_ ; then on her right a surprise.

Velvety soft fingers, a gentle purr, a waft of lavender. Sansa is raw already, wants to weep from joy, say _yes, yes, yes._ She hears a language she does not know but recognizes as a dear, secret one, hears soft throaty laughs together, warm and golden, filling her sickly veins like sunlight, cracking away at the pain and confusion till it melts like dirty ice, flows away.

She feels fingertips on her shoulders; rough on the left, silky on the right. The air is heavy, expectant, rich with their scent of honey, spices and musk, lavender, leather, iron, the scent of her pride and it’s right. 

Septa once said that pride was the worst thing a lady could have. Sansa’s heart beats _she was wrong, wrong, wrong_ , then the comforting rhythm of Ser and Her Grace, Ser and Her Grace, Ser and Her Grace till she’s lulled on the waves of her own blood, comforted.

Then the warm whispers in each ear:

“Do you want to play with us, Sansa?”

Warm and wicked and loving the next word:  
_Sister_.

“Yes.” Sansa says, a whisper at first, then louder, “Yes, Yes, Yes.” 

(Cersei and Jaime smile; their girl spread on the table, curves beautiful and pale as alabaster, her hair rays of flame around her head. Around her sweet head they’ve placed all their blades, all their needles; bone and steel and dragonglass and gold, points and rays above her. They’ve crowned her like a statue of the Maiden, theirs, their altar, their sacrifice, their love. The twins wait for a moment, watch the russet lashes tremble on their maiden’s cheek admiring her beauty, rapt in adoration, before it all begins.)

They link hands, kiss lightly, Sansa below them sighing, but not moving the tiniest toe or finger. 

“Lovesick girl.” growls Ser Jaime. 

“We’ll have to let that bad blood out. Can’t have our girl suffering, can we?” Cersei purrs.

Sansa opens her eyes with the brush of fingertips, wakes to smiles and dragonglass. 

“Yes.” she whispers. “Oh yes.”

Ser Jaime’s breath is hot and frenzied on her skin though his hand is steady and sure; delicate slashes on her thighs, red lines appearing like ink on vellum. Sansa sighs at the feel of the dragonglass, its dear familiarity, its bite and taste of Lannister blood, their blood. Left, then right, striped in perfect symmetry and Sansa’s body quivers to hear her Ser’s breath grow ragged like a starving man, his hunger. Tiny fletchings on her upper arm; her body tingles, becomes pure sweetness as she moans, the sheet wet beneath her thighs.

She feels a fingertip brush her elbow, to catch the first red drops, looks up to watch her Ser, golden and beautiful press her blood to his tongue. He closes his jade eyes and moans in pleasure. 

“Better than any treat or cake, little love.” 

His lips on hers, as he whispers into her open mouth:

“Even your blood is sweet.”

Sansa nips at his lips, feels him growl, savoring the richness, the copper and tang of it on her lips and tongue, Ser Jaime’s own tongue penetrating, thrusting into her mouth, blood and the savor of his own body inside her, Sansa rising to meet him.

Then her mouth is empty; Sansa makes tiny motions with her mouth, a hungry bird, a hungry little cub. 

“Patience.”

She knows the scent of the metal it before it touches her. The Queen’s dagger is shimmering folded steel, the metal in russet waves, sharp and bright as the noonday sun, the hilt capped with a lion’s head pommel with ruby eyes. Sansa knows it’s only for here, only for their blood. Their claws, their secrets.

Cersei is leisurely; she enjoys watching her brother and her girl squirm. Her hand firmly on the blade she traces whorls and circles over Sansa’s body, soft curving lines like a tree up her sternum, the tiny droplets of blood, red leaves. The Queen smiles at her handiwork, looks deep into her girl’s eyes, blue and deep and wide with trust

Cersei forms spirals over Sansa’s belly, round and sweet, like old drawings from the First Men. They did it for the same reason--beauty. Sansa’s pale body blossoms with scratches and droplets of blood, a canvas for her loves to paint, stone to etch, herself theirs to mold, to become. Sansa feels a wave of pleasure roll over her, toes to knees to belly, to chest to the top of her head. Without moving, she lets it break, looking into the two pairs of emerald eyes that she loves, feeling another wave break over her as she tastes her own blood on her lips, sweeter than any lemon cake could ever be.

“Yours.” she whispers like a prayer. “Love.” 

Cersei’s lips are dappled red with drops of Sansa’s blood, Ser Jaime pulling his sister close to kiss them away, growling like a savage beast, Cersei dipping to bite at him, her own sharp growl piercing the air as her teeth snap, tearing a thread of rubies from her lover’s lip. Ser Jaime laughs, Cersei letting him pull her close, red on his white teeth, his arm around her neck, like he’s caught her for good

and with one hand he makes a tiny cut above her breast, watching as the Lioness of the Rock’s blood drips softly onto her golden breast. Cersei purrs, dipping her fingertip to press to her brothers lips as he suckles, taking every bit from her, briefly supplicant as he tastes, communes. 

Then, he looks down.

“Ah, wolf-girl. You’re a hungry girl too.”

Sansa’s mind flutters back to stories about a pelican as she watches Ser Jaime make a tiny cut above his own breast

(the birds would feed their young with their heart’s blood, making them strong, making them alive even if they were gone)

but not here, because Ser Jaime’s fingertip is painting her lips scarlet like a whore’s and Sansa licks and sucks at it like sugar. 

“Little huntress. You need a taste too. We know you love it.”

He purrs and Cersei with her reddened lips leans down to kiss their girl, all of their blood mingling in kisses, Sansa’s body a field of snow scattered with red petals. Furiously, they pull her up, lift her into bed to a fire of red kisses, a twisting of gold and red bodies, the taste of copper and sugar, cruelty and pure love.

and Sansa’s awake and alive again, sustained, nourished.

“More.” she whispers. “More. More. More.”

and all three of them join in a bloody, sweet, glorious kiss 

and none can tell where she ends and they begin

and Sansa feels the wave break again like the tides at the base of the Rock and she’s always been here, always been blooded, sacrificed, beloved

and the last thing she sees before she cries out in ecstasy is two pairs of emerald eyes swimming with lust, brimming with tears,  
the last thing she feels before that cry is them holding her, yet letting her fly 

and she is theirs as they are hers

and Sansa’s cry seems to shake everything in her body, lift her, send her spinning into atoms

then land her back in her lovers’ arms.

Their kisses taste of copper, steel and love.

IV.

Sansa opens her eyes and she’s in bed. Ser Jaime’s beside her with his bottle of sharp, clear liquor and clean bandages. Sansa feels the sting on her decorations and makes a face, then another. Ser Jaime smiles as he pours and pats.

“It’s always the worst part for you, sweetling. Not a face or a wriggle of a finger or toe then, but now. Sweet girl.” He brushes her lips with a kiss, then returns to his work making sure every tiny wound is clean, tidy, that she is wrapped where she needs it, clean and tidy. Cersei holds a glass of blackberry juice to Sansa’s lips, Sansa looking at the tiny bandage above her Queen’s breast. On Cersei, it looks like jewels, like the finest silk. “My Lady.” she sighs.

“Drink.” Cersei is firm, but her eyes smile the secret emerald smile that only Sansa sees.

Sansa drains that cup, then another. She eats almonds, gingerbread, tiny slices of candied lemon as a treat, drinks water that Ser Jaime holds to her lips. 

“Good girl.” he purrs. “Our good girl.”  
Ser Jaime grins at Sansa.  
“We see our girl gets what she needs, don’t we?”  
Her blackberried kiss answers his question; she nods yeses into his shoulder. 

Cersei watches, smiles, her hand on each.

Sansa stretches content, pleased and proud, not worried about the tiny stings along her skin. She’ll need long sleeves and a shawl for a week or more, but she doesn’t mind. Sansa’s already planning to look in the mirror for a long time, which she knows makes Ser Jaime grin his knife of a grin.  
Sometimes he’ll chase her when he sees her looking. Sansa likes that.

“Know who I am again.” Sansa murmurs into Cersei’s breast, inhaling her sweetness, the delicate perfume of lavender. 

“Our red sister. Our girl. Our treasure.” her Queen whispers back. 

“Always.”

Ser Jaime’s coming back as he does at these times with his arms full of white cloth. Sansa purrs in pleasure as he tucks it around her, wraps the ends round him and Cersei. 

“Safe with us.” he whispers, running his fingers through Sansa’s ruby hair, resting his head on his golden sister’s shoulder, Cersei’s hand on Sansa’s cheek, Cersei’s lips at his neck.

They fall asleep to the sound of waves booming at the base of the Rock, Sansa’s gentle breath.

V. 

The lions and their cub sleep warm under white, miraculous, like a fall of snow in summer. Sometimes, as they shift, tiny red spots appear, scattered like petals from the rarest of all flowers as rare and strange and lovely as themselves. Their dreams are of golden savannahs, chasing prey and lolling in the sunlight, just as they all drowse together, hair mingled in a spill of red and gold, pure sweetness on a summer’s day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note: Hello! Welcome back to Wolf-Girl; I hope you enjoy this chapter. I've been away due to a death of a close family member and dealing with feelings and issues around that. Thank you for your patience--and thank you always for your support and kind words. It means the world.
> 
> There will be more regular chapters of Wolf-Girl, since there are always more stories to be told. Thank you for being here and reading this story.)
> 
> Note II: This is a sexy fantasy. Bloodplay is a very risky activity and should not be engaged in lightly since if done improperly it can transmit bloodborne diseases and cause injury or infection to yourself or your partner . Educate yourself and learn about safety if you wish to try it in your personal life. Local organizations can offer classes in needleplay, bladeplay and bloodplay and there are also reputable sources of information. Take care of yourself and your partner before you decide to have any kind of bloody fun.  
> This can be a good place to start:  
> San Francisco Sex Information website: http://sfsi.org/  
> San Francisco Sex Information hotline: 415-989-SFSI (7374)


	69. Interlude: Before Forefeits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories told.
> 
> Stories remembered.
> 
> Stories yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wolf-Girl-versary!
> 
> On the anniversary of the first chapter, I want to thank everyone who has read and supported this story, said a kind word and helped me get through difficult times.There are not enough words. I cannot thank you enough for being here and being part of this and I am grateful. Much love.
> 
> I'm still recovering, but there are more chapters to come. Hope to see you all here and thank you, again, thank you.

0.

“Tell me a story.”  
“Tell me a story, _who_? Manners.”  
“Please tell me a story, Your Grace. Please.”  
Glint of a sharp, white smile.  
“All right. You’re so good.”  
Gentle, strong fingers, rub at the Queen’s scalp, as she feels the weariness of the day spill away, roll out of their sanctuary like rinsing dirty water. In here it is always dark, sweet, clean and all words and all deeds are beautiful.  
“Mmm. Best girl. My best girl.”; then the fresh, sweet scent of lavender on her temples. It’s perfect here, their enclosed garden, always. She takes a deep breath and begins:

“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom by the sea.”

 

I.

On those days when everyone thought their charges to be somewhere else, that was when Cersei and Jaime would walk out quietly to the beach.Salt filled their nostrils, the clean, clear scent of the ocean, the breakers white against the shore, the fishing boats from Lannisport tiny pale specks against an azure sea. 

They’d swim, holding to each other’s hands, ducking their heads low to feel the waves shake above their heads, the only disturbance in their watery hiding place a stirring of their golden hair. These same waves would break shells and driftwood to bits but they were safe, swimming in then rising ivory and gold from the sea foam.

Here the hours were measured differently, moved slower, they could scrawl their names on the shoreline and let them be washed away. Cersei did this and all Jaime needed to do was make a cross in the appropriate place. It was all places and none; the salt and water the province of laughter, not tears, the most prized gold each other’s curls that they unknotted tenderly from the waves so that it would dry smooth. Free from the tyranny of language they spoke their own words freely, openly, soaring in bright syllables as high and bright as the sunlit wings of gulls.

They’d scrabble in tide-pools for tiny fish and sea urchins, flat skittering crabs in blue coats and others crammed into stolen shells. Even when they were older, the twins found them, watched them in their tiny worlds.

Cersei filled Jaime’s belt pouch with shining pebbles bright as his eyes and he filled hers with shells, sinuous as the curves of her ear, pink as her lips.

Tide-pools changed to coastline caves where they could lie together, bodies wrapped and tangled in furious joy, able to be loud, to make noise, be whole, drown in each other and rise again for more, more, more.

(Anywhere their tongues were tasted of salt and sunlight.) 

They’d dig along the shoreline and pick clams from the wet sand or scrape mussels from stones, leave them to boil amid small beer in a pilfered earthenware jar. All the while they held hands, even reaching them to the fire together to warm.

Later, the twins picked meat from the open shells, eat what tasted of the sea and the honeyed juices of hops and grains, sating their hunger. (Everyone knew you never ate a shellfish that stayed closed when boiled, that it was locked full of poison.) The twins would tell each other stories in their own mother tongue, how they’d swim in the waters forever, dance in circles under the light of the full moon, the phosphor of the seafoam gleaming in their footsteps, together, always.

Then, they knew Jaime would leave for Crakehall.  
The last day, they were frenzied, swimming out almost to the undertow, the icy drop of the water beneath their feet, their teeth chattering when they stumbled out, Cersei’s lips almost blue from the cold, but they plunged in again, again, again. Later, when they warmed each other, it was furious as waves battering against rock, Cersei clawing at Jaime’s side as he thrust into her hard, Jaime leaving blue-black bruises from gripping at his sister’s hips as she rode him, like that could keep them together for always. Their kisses came away tasting of blood, their cries echoing against the dark walls of their cave like crashing water.

Cersei sat by the fire wrapped in Jaime’s shirt, her teats pale through the fabric, her nipples, hard and rosy as tiny shells. He wrapped himself around her, nuzzling her neck and they whispered of phosphor and dancing together, wrapping strands of seaweed around their wrists, binding them each to each, wishing with each breath, each word.

In soft, rippling tones, Jaime whispered in his sister’s ear warm and sweet, that maybe someday there’d be someone with them to teach to build with wet sand, take safely hand by hand out into the water, buoyant and safe, to drowse in their arms on the way back to the Rock. 

Cersei's eyes suddenly turn to stone, her body stiffens as she spits out the words:

“We can’t.  
There’s no one like us anywhere. Never can be, never will be.  
Don’t be _stupid_.”

Not their language, the world’s. Like a blade, it cut them both.

Jaime regretted it as soon as he had said it, seeing Cersei’s eyes freeze to green ice, watch her seal herself up, hide every soft part. She didn’t cry. She only stared into the fire, closed up, resigned.

Eventually she let him wrap himself around her, kiss it away, leave him scratched and bruised on the chest from love, from fucking, her lips all copper and salt, her body marked with scratches that she’d pick at to make stay when he was--.  
Jaime thought he tasted a sour trace of black bile, then all was her lips and his and saying their words again, fiercer, harder, faster. Love.

(On the way to Crakehall, he thought of that taste, and days and years later. He would have given anything to purge the poison from her, even though they both knew it wasn’t him, it wasn’t any fancy, any words. Only his sister, his love, closed tight.  
He dreamed of salt and sweetness, stories and hoped somewhere inside that she did too. )

(Weeks later, Cersei’s heart froze, shattered, froze as she flowered, perfectly, on time. Seeing her hard, sharp eyes, someone gave her strongwine for the pain.)

When the twins started back, the sun was sinking, the sea deep and blue as sapphires, the sun as bright as rubies and gold.

 _Beautiful._ they whispered as one, their word, their joy, their heartbeat _beautiful_

As Jaime delayed, watching Cersei return a different way because that’s how it had to be done now, the first star rose diamond-bright. Her hair shone in the gloaming, as she hurried back, a golden comet’s tail, the brighter twin to the star above.

 

II.  
Her back hurt, her teeth ground and it was too godsdamned cold, every bone inside her hurt from it. Cersei wanted to snarl and bash herself against the wheelhouse, but she didn’t. She was silent, composed, in the inside of her mind, riding outside next to Jaime, the wind whipping through their hair.

When she thought she couldn’t bear another second, that she’d chew off the inside of her cheek to be calm, chew off her arm to get out, it stopped. She smoothed herself to marble, prepared herself to be gracious, greet, keep herself closed tight.

Her gown dragged in the mud. The furs weren’t warm enough and the light was wrong, steel grey, the only colors dying grass, the rippled fog of lichen on stone,the black of cold nights and boiled leather, relentless, grey lady, grey lord, grey lady, girls in moss and mushroom and slate, their high necked gowns looking like, Cersei thought, they were serving their heads up on plates. She only saw rows of parted hair as each lady, each girl, inclined her head downward.

 _Winterhell._ Jaime japed the previous night, trying to make her laugh. He only got a half-smile, though her heart warmed a little as she tried to sleep in the wheelhouse knowing that among them all he was out there watching, waiting, keeping her safe.

This steel day, there were only gowns like slush and thorns and dead brambles, dull sad nods, for a dull sad country. The Queen wondered whatever made her come here and like all things, it was obligation, all moves the same as a brass sun’s route in an orrery, solid and cold as ice, crushingly sure as a stone path laid in a garden, 

She was at the head of this path, trying to smile at the Warden and his Lady and then:

out of the corner of her eye, hair like a sunset sea, body dipped low in a perfect curtsey, hands like white doves

deferential, but in the moment, the Queen caught a glimpse of eyes deep as a blue horizon, bright as the evening star, vivid and curious, a flicker of brilliance and curiosity. There was a flush on her pale cheek at the sight of the Lioness Queen as if she’d never seen anyone that wonderful, not ever dreamed of it.

Cersei felt herself ripple, shimmer, be seen, let the miraculous girl meet her eyes briefly, fair as a dove, bright as the evening star, hair like heart’s blood; right there, a girl of ivory and jewels in this muck at the end of the world, a star in broken glass, a russet lioness lost in a land of grey wolves.  
Both of them seeing.  
Recognizing

 _Beautiful_ Cersei thought _Beautiful_.

III.  
That night, Cersei lay awake, looking at the canopy of the unfamiliar bed forming an unfamiliar name silently, thinking of how she’d tease the girl, change her sturdy shoes to tooled red leather ones, slip honey wine between her trembling pink lips, tease a flush to those pale cheeks. She wondered how her brother would respond when she told him there was a new toy coming back with them from the darkest lands, Cersei had caught his wink as he kissed the Stark girl’s hand. _Oh, yes._  
In a cold, dark place, Cersei dreamed of golden sands and sunlight, seas as blue as a Northern girl’s eyes, keeping her, holding her like the finest treasure. 

That night Ser Jaime, wrapped in a white cloak, stood guard at a strange door. In the deepest of the icy night, he stood silent, strong and bright as the pole star, like home.  
His sister’s curious smile warmed him like wine.

That night, the Warden of the North’s beautiful daughter fell asleep dreaming of a real Queen of Love and Beauty, regal half-smile and golden hair, her heart fluttering like a bird held gently in strong hands. Her final thoughts were strange and sweet, fanged smiles white fingers tangled in her red hair, emerald eyes, blood and gold, being wrapped tight. Kept. Safe. For the first time in all her life, though not the last, she slept warm.

 

IV.

“Then what?”  
“Then, a certain little dove forgot her manners. Again. One might think she wanted a spanking--but that’s for tomorrow. Mmm, my hair, just like that. Do that again and I’ll finish.”  
“Thank you, Your Grace.”  
“Then, when they woke, they took each other’s hands and swam. The sea could not drown them, the sun could not burn them and their roars and howls made the heavens themselves tremble.”  
“It’s beautiful. You tell beautiful stories.”  
“Thank you, little dove. Now come curl up, it’s time to sleep. “  
(In the darkness, in their nest, they leave room. He’ll be there soon.)  
“I love you, Your Grace.”  
Soft sigh, a kiss, a whisper, words floating on it like scented smoke:  
“I love you, little dove.”  
Holding each other close, their hearts beat: _Mine. Mine. Mine._

 _And it was summer, warm, beautiful summer._ \- Hans Christian Andersen


	70. Cracking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepless.  
> Safety.  
> Home.

_it’s a one time thing. it just happens a lot._ \--Suzanne Vega

It’s yet another night Cersei can’t bear to be in bed; where there’s only heaviness and she feels strangled and weighted by furs and comforters.  
Even when Sansa rolls over to reach for her Queen, Cersei suddenly can’t bear the touch of a hand because it feels like greed, like grabbing, like they’re grabbing fistfuls, wanting to devour her till there’s nothing left.  
When she sits by the fire she can breathe.  
She repeats her name like a prayer.  
_Cersei Lannister. Cersei Lannister. My name is Cersei Lannister._  
Like her father, she spurns the gods, but the repetition soothes her. If there’s no one in the room, she’ll rock slightly, but she prefers to be strong, _like a good soldier_ she remembers a Septa telling her. Ladies don’t slouch.  
Ladies are always at war, but no one tells them that.  
Cersei’s chest is tight and she suddenly thinks of men who swear they can wriggle the toes from a missing leg. She wonders briefly if there is nothing inside her, that what she feels is only an echo, something from far away that it isn’t real.

She takes a long sip of the Arbor Red in the goblet that’s been left by the fire as it each night, lets it soften her edges just a bit. The bed looks huge in the room, like the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor, massive. For a moment, Cersei’s not wholly sure if she’s at the Rock, thinks she smells the stench and slime of King’s Landing.

(Her chest tightens again at the thought, so Cersei thinks of something else, the taste of sunlit grapes on her tongue in this dark room, something like magic, her repeated name the spell.)

_Lannister. My name is Cersei Lannister._

It has been ever thus. No matter what, she is a lioness. If she can’t sleep she’ll keep watch over her loves in the darkness, her emerald eyes wide open, her claws sharp and out.

 

(Once at a noble house a long time ago, Cersei once saw a kitten who had its claws ripped away by the Maester, _better for the children_ the great lady said. It teetered piteously on the table, sliding on the polished wood, slipping and trying to catch itself on the table runner, landing in a pile of rushes, mewling, looking confused and frightened, its golden-orange fur painfully bright against the pale rushes and stones.

Cersei strode out of the room like a fierce beast, imperiously asking for her chambers and rest from the journey.

When she was alone she vomited. Jaime had come in from guarding the door and held her hair back as she struggled and gagged, feeling her body shudder against him. He’d stroked her hair, dabbed her face with a cool cloth, given her a piece of candied ginger, licked her ear to try and make her smile. 

The strange bed was too heavy that night. Too full and there was something horribly solid pinning her to the furs. She couldn’t sit by the fire so she lay awake, repeating her name over and over again silently till the sun rose.)

Cersei remembers she is here now, that no one took her claws, no one ever will. She wants to close her eyes, let herself rest.

She hears motion, is startled into standing, ready to throw her glass, jump, bite if she has to--but it’s Jaime, parting the bed curtains to step out, his golden curls tousled, his nude body silvered by the moonlight. He comes closer, the firelight turning the silver to gold, pure treasure. He doesn’t need to ask her, keeps his distance till she beckons him closer. When Cersei gestures he takes her hand, his large callused fingers entwined with her pale ones. When she nods, he kisses her brow, eyelid to eyelid, slides down her nose to kiss her lips.

His scent makes everything safe again, warm and musky and spiced, like hers. Like home. She stands and lets him wrap her in his arms, nuzzling against his chest, a brief flash of shame that she’s acting like a girl, weak and whimpering.  
Cersei tells herself she can do what she bloody likes, presses her cheek to her brother’s ivory chest, strong and muscled but it feels better than any silk, velvet, fur that she’s ever had against her skin. He holds her till she feels her ribcage open again, can breathe fully and gently.  
Jaime licks her ear and Cersei smiles.

He knows her true name.

Cersei leans forward, kissing Jaime hungrily, her tongue sliding into his mouth and he lets her penetrate him, growls low and soft. Kiss after kiss, her deep red robe slips away and she’s chilled but heated on the inside, inhabiting her body once again, whole. 

When he asks, she comes back to bed.Sansa rolls over, talking softly in her dream, Cersei only hearing “marchpane” and “shields ready”. Feeling Cersei against her, Sansa snuggles, then rolls, the curve of her back against Cersei’s body. Cersei turns to spoon her girl,gently resting a hand on Sansa’s hip.Jaime kisses Cersei again, slow, fevered, a promise for the morning. He strokes her golden hair, his fingers tracing circles on her scalp.

The bedclothes aren’t smothering anymore.  
Cersei feels sustained and full from the touch of her lovers, giving to feed her, their bodies hers. Hers.

With a growl of satisfaction, Cersei is present. She wriggles against Jaime, enough to not wake Sansa-but enough to let him know the morning will be interesting.

Cersei grins, thinking that it’s been too long since they bound their girl, leaving her panting, unable to do anything to satisfy herself while they fuck, making every move something lovely, lusciously rough, strong. Oh, their girl loves watching her lions mate, fierce and golden and bright. More than anything. Sansa will whimper with delight, wet as autumn and Cersei purrs at the thought of Jaime’s hands gripping her hips.

After they’re spent they’ll untie her. And things will be very interesting.  
Sansa loves their claws.  
Loves them. As they are. As they ever will be.

Thinking of the joys of her loves, pleasures to come, Cersei, Lioness of the Rock falls asleep listening to familiar beloved breaths. They know her and she knows them and she’s safe, can dream of morning. She feels heat up her spine, love and passion and lust, alive again. She nuzzles Sansa’s ruby hair, kisses Jaime’s hand. Cersei closes her eyes and drifts towards morning, her breath low and tender.

As the fire burns to embers, the lovers sleep. As they dream, dawn starts to paint the sky in pinks and reds, scatter gold over the sea.

It’s going to be a wonderful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyric and title are from the song "Cracking" by Suzanne Vega.


	71. Idyll of the Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love.  
> Sleep.  
> Dark wings,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wolf-Girl-versary!
> 
> Here's a vignette to keep things going; my writing did fall off since I moved to a new country in January and am in the process of emigration. However, I'm acclimated to my new home, writing again and have lots planned for our pride here as well as in San Francisco and other realms. Thank you for reading, support and being here for the adventure, I am beyond grateful and honored. Thank you.

Sansa’s hair is red opal today; glints of gold, ruby, the silver ribbons that hold her hair in tight braids, bound light, tight enough that she can splash and dive, sink her head underwater and open her eyes. It doesn’t sting anymore when she does; today when she opened them, the Sunset Sea the sky above her head a tiny fish blinked at her, swam away on its own currents.  
It’s a dream of loveliness. the shore, the sand. her Queen and Ser holding her hands to swim together, all of them borne rocking on the waves light as foam, carefree as the gulls that wheel and caw overhead.

Later when they’re lying in the pavilion, her skin smells like brine and salt, mixed with a hint of lavender from Cersei’s robe; despite being tall, Sansa curls up to snuggle in it, breathe in the sea and flowers, rub the silk against her cheek. All there is around her is peace; her Lady’s robe at her lips, the warmth of the sun through the tapestry panels, the gentle heaviness of the iron cuffs around her ankles.

(Ser Jamie had made sure of that. He’d dried her hair, leaving a few red strands to kiss at her pale skin, expertly snapped each cuff to her pretty ankles, then pressed a kiss to her forehead.  
“So you don't run away or get lost, sweetling.” His hair shines, almost spiked gold from the salt drying in it. ) He doesn't need to ask if winter’s out of her blood yet, in this languorous honeyed day, with her lovers’ fevered kisses, it feels as if the last bit of ice has finally melted free from her marrow, transmuted in the summer air.

The same air warms her in their shelter, the sea breeze lifting a word here, a word there from Ser Jamie and Cersei, as steady and comforting as the roll of the waves, strong of the walls of the Rock. Comfort is still strange to her, to all of them, but there is an ease to it especially here, far away from everything else. 

Far away, from anything anyone could do to them—anything is possible here, where they can run on the beach instead of marching in squares around endless gardens, waiting for something to happen.  
"We could make things happen." Sansa thinks. 

"Anything."   
Then she's asleep, comforted and safe in the glorious afternoon.

Outside, while Sansa dreams, Cersei runs her long fingers through her brother’s golden hair able for a moment to let things be slow and smooth, feeling him sigh, replete as a great golden cat in the most perfect of sunbeams. He growls, nips at his sister’s fingers.

For the moment Cersei ignores it, though she’ll find ways to address it later. She looks up and among the grey and white gulls, a splash of black like ink. There’s a chill inside her but she combs, being patient, waiting for news.

**Author's Note:**

>  _because of all the fairy tale witches, and the wicked stepmother, and the stepsisters, and how sexy Cinderella was, smudged with soot, doomed to a life of servitude;_ \- Bob Flanagan "Why"


End file.
